Outdoor art, in the form of a pedestrian bridge across the river:
The Buddha's Tooth Temple:
Mr. Cherry Blossom himself:
Breakfast--Dragon Fruit:
Friday, February 12, 2010
A few selected trip pix
Chinatown, decorated for Lunar New Year:
Outdoor art, in the form of a pedestrian bridge across the river:
The Buddha's Tooth Temple:
Mr. Cherry Blossom himself:
Breakfast--Dragon Fruit:
Outdoor art, in the form of a pedestrian bridge across the river: The Buddha's Tooth Temple:Mr. Cherry Blossom himself:
Breakfast--Dragon Fruit:
Thursday, February 11, 2010
You know you've been on a plane for 20+ hours when you start to look like your passport photo.
Yes, the Great Champagne Debacle in the Singapore airport at 3 am resolved itself with a whimper--they did take it away from me, but they only smirked instead of laughing out loud. If I had been thinking clearly at that hour (which I wasn't), I would have just opened the darn thing with a celebratory "pop" and gotten everyone in the waiting area a little tipsy before our flight. But even I can't handle warm champagne at that hour. We all hunkered down to endure the 7-hour flight to Tokyo.
My feet were the size of tennis racquets by the time I got to Narita, and after hobbling through the additional security where our bags were all x-rayed AGAIN, I walked through the terminal for an hour to try to get my circulation going again. I changed my last Singapore dollars into Japanese Yen, found a pharmacy and bought a pair of "flight socks," a pair of heavy-duty elastic compression knee socks to hold my feet together for another 10 hours. I downed a bottle of the Japanese version of Gatorade, extracted from a vending machine with the last of my Yen, and proceded into "The Sardine Zone," wherein 400 cranky people were stuffed elbow-to-elbow into a 747 flying tube, forced to eat plastic-wrapped meals every 2 hours, while watching FOUR movies in a row. It was uncomfortable to the extreme and interminable.
Somehow, I managed to fall asleep for the last 90 minutes of the flight, awaking only when the flight attendant plopped still another meal in front of my face. And then, blessedly, we were on the ground, moving like a sleepy herd of cattle through the various chutes of drug-sniffing beagle, immigration, customs and agriculture inspectors. I got to keep my dried Chinese black mushrooms, pistachio nuts (that were supposed to be an accompaniment to the long-lost champagne) and sunflower seeds.
Richard the Driver found me milling about zombie-like at the exit, and bundled me into the cold, clear Los Angeles sunshine. The next thing I knew, I was peeling off my elastic socks, hugging mom, and eating Mexican food and margaritas al fresco at the harbor!
Was it all a dream? Singapore seems far, far away now, except for the pictures. I will post some later today, just to remind myself that I was actually there.
Yes, the Great Champagne Debacle in the Singapore airport at 3 am resolved itself with a whimper--they did take it away from me, but they only smirked instead of laughing out loud. If I had been thinking clearly at that hour (which I wasn't), I would have just opened the darn thing with a celebratory "pop" and gotten everyone in the waiting area a little tipsy before our flight. But even I can't handle warm champagne at that hour. We all hunkered down to endure the 7-hour flight to Tokyo.
My feet were the size of tennis racquets by the time I got to Narita, and after hobbling through the additional security where our bags were all x-rayed AGAIN, I walked through the terminal for an hour to try to get my circulation going again. I changed my last Singapore dollars into Japanese Yen, found a pharmacy and bought a pair of "flight socks," a pair of heavy-duty elastic compression knee socks to hold my feet together for another 10 hours. I downed a bottle of the Japanese version of Gatorade, extracted from a vending machine with the last of my Yen, and proceded into "The Sardine Zone," wherein 400 cranky people were stuffed elbow-to-elbow into a 747 flying tube, forced to eat plastic-wrapped meals every 2 hours, while watching FOUR movies in a row. It was uncomfortable to the extreme and interminable.
Somehow, I managed to fall asleep for the last 90 minutes of the flight, awaking only when the flight attendant plopped still another meal in front of my face. And then, blessedly, we were on the ground, moving like a sleepy herd of cattle through the various chutes of drug-sniffing beagle, immigration, customs and agriculture inspectors. I got to keep my dried Chinese black mushrooms, pistachio nuts (that were supposed to be an accompaniment to the long-lost champagne) and sunflower seeds.
Richard the Driver found me milling about zombie-like at the exit, and bundled me into the cold, clear Los Angeles sunshine. The next thing I knew, I was peeling off my elastic socks, hugging mom, and eating Mexican food and margaritas al fresco at the harbor!
Was it all a dream? Singapore seems far, far away now, except for the pictures. I will post some later today, just to remind myself that I was actually there.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Stupid Traveler Makes Airport Security Guffaw
It's 3 am and I'm in the Singapore airport, and I'm getting ready to fly to LA. So I go through security (the first part) and the screener says (incredulously) "Do you have a bottle of liquor in your bag?"
"Yes" I say. "I'm allowed to bring back one bottle of wine, right?"
Well, dumb-ass me--I've got my gels and liquids of less than 3 oz in my ziplock bag--did it EVER OCCUR TO ME that a bottle of champagne for my mom just might fall into that "Liquids/Gels" category? NO, IT DID NOT. What an idiot I am.
Now I'm going to go through the next checkpoint, and they are going to take it away from me, and I'm going to be the "Stupid American" who tried to bring a bottle of champagne through security.
I am so embarrassed.
Do you suppose they'll all point at me and just laugh out loud?
To be continued....
"Yes" I say. "I'm allowed to bring back one bottle of wine, right?"
Well, dumb-ass me--I've got my gels and liquids of less than 3 oz in my ziplock bag--did it EVER OCCUR TO ME that a bottle of champagne for my mom just might fall into that "Liquids/Gels" category? NO, IT DID NOT. What an idiot I am.
Now I'm going to go through the next checkpoint, and they are going to take it away from me, and I'm going to be the "Stupid American" who tried to bring a bottle of champagne through security.
I am so embarrassed.
Do you suppose they'll all point at me and just laugh out loud?
To be continued....
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
S'Pore Factoids & Sneaking in to the Super Bowl Party
On Sunday, Bill and I took a long MRT trip out to the western side of the island. Our goal was the Singapore Army Museum and Discovery Centre. We got lost multiple times, walking in the hot sun, but eventually found our way to the right place.
The museum attempts to chronicle the progress of founding an army from scratch in 1965. Given the island's history of colonization, invasion and occupation, they have done a remarkable job of planning and training the whole population for mobilization if necessary. They decided on universal conscription, and every male at 18 serves at least two years. Women also serve in the military, but it is not required for them.
Along the path to the Discovery Centre were the following interesting facts on signboards:
Singapore is the second most densely populated country in the world (after Monaco). There are more than 6,500 people per square kilometer. Bill remarked that I probably wouldn't have come here if I had known that beforehand!
In the island's small nature preserve, there are more species of trees than in all of North America.
Every day, more than 975,000 taxi rides are hired.
On our way back into the city, we stopped in the suburbs, to see what life was like outside the tourist areas. The shopping mall was jammed (like the MRT) with families--shopping appears to be the preferred recreational activity. I finally got to taste "Hainnese Chicken Rice" (for $1.50!), one of those dishes that is uniquely Singaporean. Bill had another local dish, Kaya Toast with coconut jam. Prices are cheaper out in the sticks.
On Monday, I got up at 4:30 am without a problem. (My sleeping schedule seems to be asserting itself back to U.S. time again). I met the men from Bill's ship for breakfast (Bill was already aboard working since midnight) and got on the hired van with the Captain, the Chief, and various day workers. We embarked on a half-hour ride through the dark to the northern tip of the island, to the Sembawan Naval Shipyard. Before we entered the base, the Chief Engineer handed me an identity card, told me to hold my thumb over the photo, pull my cap down over my face, and pretend to be sleeping.
The next thing I knew, we were getting off the van and walking across the gangplank to the ship, still in the dry dock. Below us was the gigantic propeller, looking all shiny and new--the shipyard workers had just polished it the day before.
Bill met me on the fantail and took me on a short tour of some of the spaces. Everything is torn apart in the engine room, and with so few people aboard, it was kind of eerie and forlorn. While Bill finished up his work, I sat and watched an Indian soap-opera and knitted in his cabin. Then we walked through the base and caught a cab to the "Terror Club."
Named after the H.M.S. Terror, a WWI British dreadnought, the club put on a breakfast buffet and televised the Super Bowl via the Armed Forces Network. The game was exciting (a good thing, since Bill kept nodding off after working all night), but I missed being able to see the commercials--instead we got "atta-boy" messages from the Secretary of Defense and President Obama during the breaks, and previously taped, endlessly repeating thank you messages from various players from both teams.
As soon as Manning blew the 4th down at the end, we packed up and trudged to the bus stop, caught a bus to the MRT station at Yishun, and took the long ride back into town. Bill went back to the hotel, and I continued on, with the idea of going to the Asian Civilizations Museum.
Unfortunately, my map was faulty, so I ended up at the National Museum and the National Art Gallery instead. I had a good afternoon at both, and will try again for the Asian Civilizations Museum today--I hear it's definitely worth the effort.
This morning, I was up at 5, and spent the early morning packing my bags. I fly out at 5:50 am tomorrow. Bill has a sore throat and is getting a cold, so I guess I'm getting out of town just in time!
The museum attempts to chronicle the progress of founding an army from scratch in 1965. Given the island's history of colonization, invasion and occupation, they have done a remarkable job of planning and training the whole population for mobilization if necessary. They decided on universal conscription, and every male at 18 serves at least two years. Women also serve in the military, but it is not required for them.
Along the path to the Discovery Centre were the following interesting facts on signboards:
Singapore is the second most densely populated country in the world (after Monaco). There are more than 6,500 people per square kilometer. Bill remarked that I probably wouldn't have come here if I had known that beforehand!
In the island's small nature preserve, there are more species of trees than in all of North America.
Every day, more than 975,000 taxi rides are hired.
On our way back into the city, we stopped in the suburbs, to see what life was like outside the tourist areas. The shopping mall was jammed (like the MRT) with families--shopping appears to be the preferred recreational activity. I finally got to taste "Hainnese Chicken Rice" (for $1.50!), one of those dishes that is uniquely Singaporean. Bill had another local dish, Kaya Toast with coconut jam. Prices are cheaper out in the sticks.
On Monday, I got up at 4:30 am without a problem. (My sleeping schedule seems to be asserting itself back to U.S. time again). I met the men from Bill's ship for breakfast (Bill was already aboard working since midnight) and got on the hired van with the Captain, the Chief, and various day workers. We embarked on a half-hour ride through the dark to the northern tip of the island, to the Sembawan Naval Shipyard. Before we entered the base, the Chief Engineer handed me an identity card, told me to hold my thumb over the photo, pull my cap down over my face, and pretend to be sleeping.
The next thing I knew, we were getting off the van and walking across the gangplank to the ship, still in the dry dock. Below us was the gigantic propeller, looking all shiny and new--the shipyard workers had just polished it the day before.
Bill met me on the fantail and took me on a short tour of some of the spaces. Everything is torn apart in the engine room, and with so few people aboard, it was kind of eerie and forlorn. While Bill finished up his work, I sat and watched an Indian soap-opera and knitted in his cabin. Then we walked through the base and caught a cab to the "Terror Club."
Named after the H.M.S. Terror, a WWI British dreadnought, the club put on a breakfast buffet and televised the Super Bowl via the Armed Forces Network. The game was exciting (a good thing, since Bill kept nodding off after working all night), but I missed being able to see the commercials--instead we got "atta-boy" messages from the Secretary of Defense and President Obama during the breaks, and previously taped, endlessly repeating thank you messages from various players from both teams.
As soon as Manning blew the 4th down at the end, we packed up and trudged to the bus stop, caught a bus to the MRT station at Yishun, and took the long ride back into town. Bill went back to the hotel, and I continued on, with the idea of going to the Asian Civilizations Museum.
Unfortunately, my map was faulty, so I ended up at the National Museum and the National Art Gallery instead. I had a good afternoon at both, and will try again for the Asian Civilizations Museum today--I hear it's definitely worth the effort.
This morning, I was up at 5, and spent the early morning packing my bags. I fly out at 5:50 am tomorrow. Bill has a sore throat and is getting a cold, so I guess I'm getting out of town just in time!
Sunday, February 7, 2010
What Shall I Do Today?
I feel as though I've really accomplished something--I've learned how to ride the buses! When I first arrived here, Bill told me that the MRT subway system was easy, but he found the bus system incomprehensible. Too hard for us mere Occidentals, in other words.
But yesterday, sitting in the hot sun, waiting for the free shuttle bus that never came, I studied the posted schedules and took the plunge when a #51 pulled up. I beeped my EZ Pass, no one yelled at me for doing it wrong, I didn't get lost and I managed to go all the way to where I wanted to go and got off at the right place. Success! At 69 cents per ride, it sure beats a $10 cab fare.
After reading my blog yesterday, my mom was shocked that I paid $185 for the silicone thingy collection. So for those who read it the same way, I meant $18 Singapore Dollars ("S"), not $185!
Bill came home early (9:30 am) yesterday and wasn't sleepy, so we embarked on another adventure--riding the Singapore Flyer, world's largest ferris wheel. It was expensive but very, very fun. We rode in a glassed in "capsule" about 8 x 20 feet in area. An audio guide and map legend explained what we were seeing in the 360 degree view, 165 metres above the ground at its apex. When we alighted, we walked through the mini rain forest exhibit and had a gelato to cool off.
Back at Great World City mall, I dragged Bill into a Japanese restaurant, were we ate multiple plates and bowls of great food and drank Sapporo beer to cool off. I kept ordering this and that (fabulous shrimp tempura!) until Bill protested that he really had to get to sleep. He got a solid 7 hours while I did my bus adventure described above. Then we met some of his co-workers for drinks out on the hotel patio--I got to meet the Chief Engineer, Dusty, and his lovely wife Tamoko, from Japan.
Now it's another day ahead. Tamoko and I have planned to meet up and do something together--maybe shopping, maybe dim sum, maybe showing her some of the places I have found to be interesting. She has not seen much of the city other than Orchard Road, and she is a tentative traveler, a little shy and hesitant to venture out.
By contrast, I have re-discovered my long ago adventurous self here--easy to do when the city is very safe, and the usual city crimes are almost non-existent due to the draconian punishments for such behaviors. Every day, I feel that I am stretching my boundaries and recapturing some of the curiosity I used to have when I traveled in my twenties.
Bill rolls his eyes and says, "I supposed there's no stopping you now..." By insisting that I come here and learn to be an explorer again, he may have created a globe-galavanting monster.
But yesterday, sitting in the hot sun, waiting for the free shuttle bus that never came, I studied the posted schedules and took the plunge when a #51 pulled up. I beeped my EZ Pass, no one yelled at me for doing it wrong, I didn't get lost and I managed to go all the way to where I wanted to go and got off at the right place. Success! At 69 cents per ride, it sure beats a $10 cab fare.
After reading my blog yesterday, my mom was shocked that I paid $185 for the silicone thingy collection. So for those who read it the same way, I meant $18 Singapore Dollars ("S"), not $185!
Bill came home early (9:30 am) yesterday and wasn't sleepy, so we embarked on another adventure--riding the Singapore Flyer, world's largest ferris wheel. It was expensive but very, very fun. We rode in a glassed in "capsule" about 8 x 20 feet in area. An audio guide and map legend explained what we were seeing in the 360 degree view, 165 metres above the ground at its apex. When we alighted, we walked through the mini rain forest exhibit and had a gelato to cool off.
Back at Great World City mall, I dragged Bill into a Japanese restaurant, were we ate multiple plates and bowls of great food and drank Sapporo beer to cool off. I kept ordering this and that (fabulous shrimp tempura!) until Bill protested that he really had to get to sleep. He got a solid 7 hours while I did my bus adventure described above. Then we met some of his co-workers for drinks out on the hotel patio--I got to meet the Chief Engineer, Dusty, and his lovely wife Tamoko, from Japan.
Now it's another day ahead. Tamoko and I have planned to meet up and do something together--maybe shopping, maybe dim sum, maybe showing her some of the places I have found to be interesting. She has not seen much of the city other than Orchard Road, and she is a tentative traveler, a little shy and hesitant to venture out.
By contrast, I have re-discovered my long ago adventurous self here--easy to do when the city is very safe, and the usual city crimes are almost non-existent due to the draconian punishments for such behaviors. Every day, I feel that I am stretching my boundaries and recapturing some of the curiosity I used to have when I traveled in my twenties.
Bill rolls his eyes and says, "I supposed there's no stopping you now..." By insisting that I come here and learn to be an explorer again, he may have created a globe-galavanting monster.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Another 24 Hours of Fun!
I continue to explore and enjoy this remarkable city. Yesterday, we ran out of underwear, so instead of doing the laundromat thing in the hotel ($16), I took the whole pile to the Washy-Washy down the street.
While Bill slept, I took a shuttle to Orchard Road, the fancy shopping/lodging/dining section of town. The sidewalks were teeming with tourists, not my favorite atmosphere, even though I'm a tourist myself. I did some wandering around Lucky Centre, the Filipino nexus. Then I found my way to Tang's department store where the real fun was!
There was one whole floor devoted to handbags. They do love their purses here, and the scene at Tangs was like a parody of sale-day at Macy's. Women playing polite-but-firm Tug O' War with totes, clutches and shoulder bags, everyone racing from table to table, trying to snatch up the "bargains."
Downstairs was kitchenware and appliances, all being demonstrated by enthusiastic Asian versions of "Vince ShamWoW" and Billy Mays on TV at home. I was treated to demos of food dehydrators, vacuums, Bento-Box thermos units, mixers, knives, rice cookers, rotisseries, and food storage covers.
I was completely enthralled with the silicone bowl covers and expressed mild interest. "Wait, don't answer yet!" said the girl (I'm not kidding). "You also get two jumbo size for free, today special only!" She switched effortlessly between Mandarin and English to sell her product simultaneously to me and the Chinese couple standing next to me. I blinked first, and walked away with a set of 5 for just $18S. I felt like I had won a prize drawing!
While looking for my shuttle bus, the sky opened up and the rain poured down. But it was like rain in TN in the summer; it didn't really cool anything off, just added to the humidity. I queued up for a taxi and the driver kindly took me to the Washy-Washy in time to pick up our clean clothes, and I walked back to the hotel in the rain.
When Bill awoke, we went on our nightly hunter-gatherer routine for dinner. Walking up to Great World City, my sneakers took one last sigh and completely fell apart. I had dinner barefoot under the table, then Bill took me to Bata, where I bought a pair of sandals with arch support. I've never had a pair of shoes fail so suddenly and dramatically, except for the time my gym shoes in Junior High had bleach spilled on them, literally flying off my feet when I kicked a ball in gym class. I guess I just wore out those poor sneaks by walking them to death here in Singapore.
We walked along the river coming home, and stopped in for a beer at the Grand Copthorne piano bar. Bill's musician friend Victor wasn't due in until 9:45, so we moved on, Bill hoping to get a nap before catching the bus to work at 11:15.
Good news this morning: Juli is out of the hospital and on the mend. Sometime last night, "another hole" was found on Bill's ship, necessitating another two weeks in dry dock (meaning another two weeks in the hotel), so we don't have to find new lodging or move before I leave next week. Bill swears he was nowhere near that part of the ship at any time...
While Bill slept, I took a shuttle to Orchard Road, the fancy shopping/lodging/dining section of town. The sidewalks were teeming with tourists, not my favorite atmosphere, even though I'm a tourist myself. I did some wandering around Lucky Centre, the Filipino nexus. Then I found my way to Tang's department store where the real fun was!
There was one whole floor devoted to handbags. They do love their purses here, and the scene at Tangs was like a parody of sale-day at Macy's. Women playing polite-but-firm Tug O' War with totes, clutches and shoulder bags, everyone racing from table to table, trying to snatch up the "bargains."
Downstairs was kitchenware and appliances, all being demonstrated by enthusiastic Asian versions of "Vince ShamWoW" and Billy Mays on TV at home. I was treated to demos of food dehydrators, vacuums, Bento-Box thermos units, mixers, knives, rice cookers, rotisseries, and food storage covers.
I was completely enthralled with the silicone bowl covers and expressed mild interest. "Wait, don't answer yet!" said the girl (I'm not kidding). "You also get two jumbo size for free, today special only!" She switched effortlessly between Mandarin and English to sell her product simultaneously to me and the Chinese couple standing next to me. I blinked first, and walked away with a set of 5 for just $18S. I felt like I had won a prize drawing!
While looking for my shuttle bus, the sky opened up and the rain poured down. But it was like rain in TN in the summer; it didn't really cool anything off, just added to the humidity. I queued up for a taxi and the driver kindly took me to the Washy-Washy in time to pick up our clean clothes, and I walked back to the hotel in the rain.
When Bill awoke, we went on our nightly hunter-gatherer routine for dinner. Walking up to Great World City, my sneakers took one last sigh and completely fell apart. I had dinner barefoot under the table, then Bill took me to Bata, where I bought a pair of sandals with arch support. I've never had a pair of shoes fail so suddenly and dramatically, except for the time my gym shoes in Junior High had bleach spilled on them, literally flying off my feet when I kicked a ball in gym class. I guess I just wore out those poor sneaks by walking them to death here in Singapore.
We walked along the river coming home, and stopped in for a beer at the Grand Copthorne piano bar. Bill's musician friend Victor wasn't due in until 9:45, so we moved on, Bill hoping to get a nap before catching the bus to work at 11:15.
Good news this morning: Juli is out of the hospital and on the mend. Sometime last night, "another hole" was found on Bill's ship, necessitating another two weeks in dry dock (meaning another two weeks in the hotel), so we don't have to find new lodging or move before I leave next week. Bill swears he was nowhere near that part of the ship at any time...
Friday, February 5, 2010
After a week here...
I have been here for a week, and I feel like I'm starting to get a grip on this place. I can find my way via the MRT underground, I've got a mental map of the city so I am no longer getting lost, and I've even assumed the role of helping other tourists find their way and recommending good things to eat.
Yesterday, I did the walking tour of Kampong Glam, one of the oldest sections of the city and the heart of the Malay and Islamic communities. With our guide we visited a shop (owned and operated by a Hindu gentleman) that specializes in items a devout Muslim would need before embarking on the Haj, the required pilgrimage to Mecca. Here, you can get your prayer rug (with built-in plastic compass to point the way), your robe, your prayer beads (or electronic counter, if you're more modern), and your head covering. You can even book your travel here. Interestingly, each country with a Muslim population is allowed a "quota" of pilgrims to send. Singapore gets about 1,500 annually, Indonesia gets 200,000.
One of our tour asked the question: Would it be sacrilegious for an infidel to purchase a prayer rug and use it for decoration, such as a wall hanging? After some discussion between the owner of the shop and our guide, it was decided that it would be fine to do so, as long as the rug was not walked on or used inappropriately, such as a bathmat. But then, Guide Josephine said, "we say that it would be entirely acceptable, but you must remember, we are Singaporeans--I might not give the same answer in Indonesia or Iran or Saudi Arabia. We are used to being respectful and tolerant to each other, but I wouldn't try this in other countries!"
We also visited a shop where the traditional Malay proposal customs were explained and we learned how to wrap a sarong in the proper way for both men and women, and a perfume shop where you can have any scent you want concocted. We then took off our shoes and were allowed inside the Masjid Sultan Mosque (a first for me!), walked on to the former Malay palace and a very old cemetery, all the while hearing the history of the betrayals, usurpations of the throne, and Dutch and British manipulations of various royal rulers, all vying for control of strategic Singapore.
At the end of the tour, I led Janice from Reno and Paul from Melbourne, Australia to the Zum Zum restaurant, where we feasted on Roti Prata and about 4 litres of water. Janice (who is a quilter) and I spent the afternoon shopping in the textile shops on Arab Street, looking for bargains.
I loved this area of the city the best so far, I think. I find Chinatown (in preparation for Chinese New Year next week), and Little India both to be way too fast-paced and frenetic. Walking (or trying to push and shove through the crowds on the sidewalk) there really sets off my big-city anxiety. By contrast, Kampong Glam was like walking back in time, and once down a side alley, the noise of the traffic on Beach Road disappeared. The shopkeepers were friendly, but not pushy. And there were some real bargains for a change, so even shopping was fun.
I came home exhausted (again!), took a swim in the pool to cool off, then trekked over to the Washy-Washy to pick up Bill's work overalls while he was sleeping. I stopped in at a storefront spa on the way back to the hotel and got a 40-minute foot massage. Ahhhhhh!
When Bill awoke, we took a cab to Suntec City, had a chicken satay pizza and salad for dinner and then wandered down to the Pauliner Brew Pub, where we hoisted one and listened to the Filipino band.
Bill caught the bus to work at 11:15 pm, and I fell into a dreamless sleep.
This morning I called Seattle and talked to both Kerne and Juli--the hospital is going to discharge her in a few hours and they've moved her GI appointment up to next week (instead of late March). I'm hoping they can get her stabilized, diagnosed and fixed!
Yesterday, I did the walking tour of Kampong Glam, one of the oldest sections of the city and the heart of the Malay and Islamic communities. With our guide we visited a shop (owned and operated by a Hindu gentleman) that specializes in items a devout Muslim would need before embarking on the Haj, the required pilgrimage to Mecca. Here, you can get your prayer rug (with built-in plastic compass to point the way), your robe, your prayer beads (or electronic counter, if you're more modern), and your head covering. You can even book your travel here. Interestingly, each country with a Muslim population is allowed a "quota" of pilgrims to send. Singapore gets about 1,500 annually, Indonesia gets 200,000.
One of our tour asked the question: Would it be sacrilegious for an infidel to purchase a prayer rug and use it for decoration, such as a wall hanging? After some discussion between the owner of the shop and our guide, it was decided that it would be fine to do so, as long as the rug was not walked on or used inappropriately, such as a bathmat. But then, Guide Josephine said, "we say that it would be entirely acceptable, but you must remember, we are Singaporeans--I might not give the same answer in Indonesia or Iran or Saudi Arabia. We are used to being respectful and tolerant to each other, but I wouldn't try this in other countries!"
We also visited a shop where the traditional Malay proposal customs were explained and we learned how to wrap a sarong in the proper way for both men and women, and a perfume shop where you can have any scent you want concocted. We then took off our shoes and were allowed inside the Masjid Sultan Mosque (a first for me!), walked on to the former Malay palace and a very old cemetery, all the while hearing the history of the betrayals, usurpations of the throne, and Dutch and British manipulations of various royal rulers, all vying for control of strategic Singapore.
At the end of the tour, I led Janice from Reno and Paul from Melbourne, Australia to the Zum Zum restaurant, where we feasted on Roti Prata and about 4 litres of water. Janice (who is a quilter) and I spent the afternoon shopping in the textile shops on Arab Street, looking for bargains.
I loved this area of the city the best so far, I think. I find Chinatown (in preparation for Chinese New Year next week), and Little India both to be way too fast-paced and frenetic. Walking (or trying to push and shove through the crowds on the sidewalk) there really sets off my big-city anxiety. By contrast, Kampong Glam was like walking back in time, and once down a side alley, the noise of the traffic on Beach Road disappeared. The shopkeepers were friendly, but not pushy. And there were some real bargains for a change, so even shopping was fun.
I came home exhausted (again!), took a swim in the pool to cool off, then trekked over to the Washy-Washy to pick up Bill's work overalls while he was sleeping. I stopped in at a storefront spa on the way back to the hotel and got a 40-minute foot massage. Ahhhhhh!
When Bill awoke, we took a cab to Suntec City, had a chicken satay pizza and salad for dinner and then wandered down to the Pauliner Brew Pub, where we hoisted one and listened to the Filipino band.
Bill caught the bus to work at 11:15 pm, and I fell into a dreamless sleep.
This morning I called Seattle and talked to both Kerne and Juli--the hospital is going to discharge her in a few hours and they've moved her GI appointment up to next week (instead of late March). I'm hoping they can get her stabilized, diagnosed and fixed!
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Worry Time...Again
My daughter Juli is back in the hospital again, just over a month since her last episode Christmas Eve. I'll have to suspend writing on the blog for a bit, while we do the overseas phone call thing instead of spending time on the travelogue.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Mid-Visit Thoughts on Singapore
There are two kinds of weather in Singapore--inside and outside. Inside is were you dart to lower your overheated core temperature in the air conditioning. Outside, it's pretty much always hot and humid. At 1 degree north of the equator, Singapore is tropical. They have the rainy season and the dry season, but the temperature is always in the mid-90s, and the air is always laden with moisture.
I hadn't realized that I was getting so darned dehydrated those first few days. I didn't know how much I was sweating until suddenly my vision would blur, the room would spin and my head felt like it was going to blow the top of my skull skyward. Now, I usually carry 2-3 litres of water with me at all times. I drink and drink and drink some more.
I haven't touched a beer or any alcohol for that matter since I've been here--for one thing, it's very expensive (a beer is 3 times the cost of a meal, a glass of wine in a restaurant will run you $20), and for some reason, it just doesn't appeal to me in this heat--I'm already quite light-headed most of the time. I've also pretty much lost my appetite the last day or two. Maybe because of all the water sloshing around in there, but again, it's hard to be hungry when it's this hot.
So, forget the weather--there's nothing to be done about it. Wear a hat, seek the shade, stop in at every air conditioned mall for a breather and another iced coffee (my new best beverage) or a fruit smoothie.
The energy of this place is tremendous. I took the MRT (underground trains) at morning rush hour to meet up with the Chinatown tour yesterday. The rapid clacking of heels on the tile floors as our huge herd of young people transferred from the north-south line to the east-west line sounded like an army on the march. It is an army of sorts. Everyone has a purpose, and that purpose is Business, Productivity, Capitalism--all with capital letters. The television is always exhorting people to get out there and make money for the greater good--for Singapore and Asia. It's a little creepy in a lock-step mindset kind of way, but I can't help but wonder if it was like this in the U.S. during the Industrial Revolution, or during WWII. Maybe our economy could use some of these exhortations to get out there and be a productive member of society.
The newspapers are all business news, the television is all about growth and progress, and there is a sense everywhere that Asia is ascendant, the West is in decline. While we dither, watch "reality" shows and decry big corporations for being all about making money, people here long ago decided that social order was preferable to individual freedom, and everyone is expected to have a nose to the grindstone for the benefit of the society. Slackers are not tolerated.
That said, it's an incredibly vibrant place, with an uncommon civility between many diverse ethnic races. People are mostly very friendly (especially if you buy something--then you're their new best friend), but they've all got places to go and things to do. No time is wasted. There's an economic world to conquer out there.
So much for societal ruminations. I'm off to go discover more today.
I hadn't realized that I was getting so darned dehydrated those first few days. I didn't know how much I was sweating until suddenly my vision would blur, the room would spin and my head felt like it was going to blow the top of my skull skyward. Now, I usually carry 2-3 litres of water with me at all times. I drink and drink and drink some more.
I haven't touched a beer or any alcohol for that matter since I've been here--for one thing, it's very expensive (a beer is 3 times the cost of a meal, a glass of wine in a restaurant will run you $20), and for some reason, it just doesn't appeal to me in this heat--I'm already quite light-headed most of the time. I've also pretty much lost my appetite the last day or two. Maybe because of all the water sloshing around in there, but again, it's hard to be hungry when it's this hot.
So, forget the weather--there's nothing to be done about it. Wear a hat, seek the shade, stop in at every air conditioned mall for a breather and another iced coffee (my new best beverage) or a fruit smoothie.
The energy of this place is tremendous. I took the MRT (underground trains) at morning rush hour to meet up with the Chinatown tour yesterday. The rapid clacking of heels on the tile floors as our huge herd of young people transferred from the north-south line to the east-west line sounded like an army on the march. It is an army of sorts. Everyone has a purpose, and that purpose is Business, Productivity, Capitalism--all with capital letters. The television is always exhorting people to get out there and make money for the greater good--for Singapore and Asia. It's a little creepy in a lock-step mindset kind of way, but I can't help but wonder if it was like this in the U.S. during the Industrial Revolution, or during WWII. Maybe our economy could use some of these exhortations to get out there and be a productive member of society.
The newspapers are all business news, the television is all about growth and progress, and there is a sense everywhere that Asia is ascendant, the West is in decline. While we dither, watch "reality" shows and decry big corporations for being all about making money, people here long ago decided that social order was preferable to individual freedom, and everyone is expected to have a nose to the grindstone for the benefit of the society. Slackers are not tolerated.
That said, it's an incredibly vibrant place, with an uncommon civility between many diverse ethnic races. People are mostly very friendly (especially if you buy something--then you're their new best friend), but they've all got places to go and things to do. No time is wasted. There's an economic world to conquer out there.
So much for societal ruminations. I'm off to go discover more today.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Busy, Busy, Busy
Yesterday, Bill came home from work and we had breakfast together at the hotel buffet. We were going to head over to the World's Largest Ferris Wheel, but ran into two of his shipmates in the elevator, JoJo and Shawn, and decided to share a cab to Little India instead. Bill and I wandered through the streets and shops, making our way to Mustafa's, the Singapore equivalent of Super Wal-mart. Five stories high, 2 city blocks square, you can buy groceries, a car, or anything in between. I got a much-needed wristwatch, and a few surprises for the folks back home.
We then took the MRT to still another shopping centre in Clarke Quay (pronounced "Key"), had lunch and then walked back to the hotel along the river. Bill slept while I threw our laundry into the washers and took a delightful swim in the pool while the clothes did their thing.
I actually managed to sleep until 5 am this morning.
In a few minutes, I will take a cab to City Hall and meet up with my tour group for immersion into the history of the British Colonial period in Singapore. I feel a bit like a pack-mule: Bottles of water, umbrella, insect repellent, hat, etc.
We then took the MRT to still another shopping centre in Clarke Quay (pronounced "Key"), had lunch and then walked back to the hotel along the river. Bill slept while I threw our laundry into the washers and took a delightful swim in the pool while the clothes did their thing.
I actually managed to sleep until 5 am this morning.
In a few minutes, I will take a cab to City Hall and meet up with my tour group for immersion into the history of the British Colonial period in Singapore. I feel a bit like a pack-mule: Bottles of water, umbrella, insect repellent, hat, etc.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
A Strange Day So Far...
I am still all whacked out on sleeping schedules. Last night, after Bill took me to Chinatown and taught me how to navigate the MRT, I fell asleep around 7 pm and could not be roused to go have a beer and listen to music with him at 10. He left for work at 11:15 and I woke up around 2:30 am. I watched a little TV and knitted, then fell asleep again from 4 - 7 am.
I had the whole day planned out while Bill was going to be working. I would walk up to the Great City Mall, catch the free shuttle bus to City Hall, then catch the MRT train to the last stop on the Purple Line and hook up with the Changi War Museum Tour at 10 am.
First, I woke up with majorly swollen knees, making me think that a walking tour might not be the best thing to do today. I hobbled my way up to the Mall at 8 am, hoping the walk would loosen things up a bit, and then when I arrived, was disappointed to find that the shuttles didn't start running until 10:30.
I walked across the street to the Hawker's Centre, figuring I'd have breakfast and a cup of coffee while considering my options. There were about six or seven food stalls open, and there were people eating at the open air tables, but at every stall I approached, I was vigorously waved off and told the foreign language equivalent of "No Soup For You!" It was mystifying. Did I look too Occidental? Too affluent? Do you have to know somebody to get a bowl of noodles or a deep-fried fish? I finally gave up and went back across the street to Great City, found a pastry shop that was happy to serve me, and had a pineapple & almond tartlet and a big iced coffee. That cooled me off long enough to consider what to do next.
Most of the shops in the mall were closed, but as I sipped my beverage and nibbled my tart, some started to open. I leisurely browsed through the Italian gourmet store (fresh pasta and sauces to take home, desserts, Pelligrino, and wine), and bought a couple bottles of wine. I spent about two hours wandering through Cold Storage (a supermarket) in the basement, picking up things like a corkscrew, dried fruit and nuts, beer for Bill, yogurt and bananas and grapes for me, a couple of freshly baked breads (one swirlled with chocolate for Bill, the other studded with California walnuts for me), New Zealand butter, and mango juice. My last stop was the sushi takeout (which finally opened at 11), where the man behind the counter made up some unagi maki and lobster rolls for me.
By this time, my carry bag was bursting, the sun was out in full force, and it was time to trek back to the room and unload. I took the footbridge over to the riverwalk and stopped at every bench that was in the shade to wipe my brow, fan myself with Bill's hat (that I had amazingly remembered to bring) and switch arms on my bulging shopping bag. As I crossed the final boulevard to the hotel, I was literally dripping in flop-sweat, my feet squishing in my soaked-though socks, and the rest of my clothes raining droplets on the sidewalk. I know you think I must be exaggerating, but honestly, it's the truth. I was as wet as if someone had pushed me into the river!
When I got up to the room and looked in the mirror, my face was bright RED, flushed with heat and exertion. I peeled off my soaked clothes, took a cool shower and ate my sushi lunch. Bill came home from work as I was gobbling up seaweed salad and pickled ginger. He took his shower, drank a beer, and went straight to sleep.
So now I'm wondering what to do--go do more tourist stuff on my own, or go to sleep to match Bill's schedule? It seems like nothing starts or opens early around here, so maybe it is best to do things in the cool of the evening and sleep during the heat of the day.
It's 2 pm now, so if I did fall asleep, I could just call it an afternoon nap...
I had the whole day planned out while Bill was going to be working. I would walk up to the Great City Mall, catch the free shuttle bus to City Hall, then catch the MRT train to the last stop on the Purple Line and hook up with the Changi War Museum Tour at 10 am.
First, I woke up with majorly swollen knees, making me think that a walking tour might not be the best thing to do today. I hobbled my way up to the Mall at 8 am, hoping the walk would loosen things up a bit, and then when I arrived, was disappointed to find that the shuttles didn't start running until 10:30.
I walked across the street to the Hawker's Centre, figuring I'd have breakfast and a cup of coffee while considering my options. There were about six or seven food stalls open, and there were people eating at the open air tables, but at every stall I approached, I was vigorously waved off and told the foreign language equivalent of "No Soup For You!" It was mystifying. Did I look too Occidental? Too affluent? Do you have to know somebody to get a bowl of noodles or a deep-fried fish? I finally gave up and went back across the street to Great City, found a pastry shop that was happy to serve me, and had a pineapple & almond tartlet and a big iced coffee. That cooled me off long enough to consider what to do next.
Most of the shops in the mall were closed, but as I sipped my beverage and nibbled my tart, some started to open. I leisurely browsed through the Italian gourmet store (fresh pasta and sauces to take home, desserts, Pelligrino, and wine), and bought a couple bottles of wine. I spent about two hours wandering through Cold Storage (a supermarket) in the basement, picking up things like a corkscrew, dried fruit and nuts, beer for Bill, yogurt and bananas and grapes for me, a couple of freshly baked breads (one swirlled with chocolate for Bill, the other studded with California walnuts for me), New Zealand butter, and mango juice. My last stop was the sushi takeout (which finally opened at 11), where the man behind the counter made up some unagi maki and lobster rolls for me.
By this time, my carry bag was bursting, the sun was out in full force, and it was time to trek back to the room and unload. I took the footbridge over to the riverwalk and stopped at every bench that was in the shade to wipe my brow, fan myself with Bill's hat (that I had amazingly remembered to bring) and switch arms on my bulging shopping bag. As I crossed the final boulevard to the hotel, I was literally dripping in flop-sweat, my feet squishing in my soaked-though socks, and the rest of my clothes raining droplets on the sidewalk. I know you think I must be exaggerating, but honestly, it's the truth. I was as wet as if someone had pushed me into the river!
When I got up to the room and looked in the mirror, my face was bright RED, flushed with heat and exertion. I peeled off my soaked clothes, took a cool shower and ate my sushi lunch. Bill came home from work as I was gobbling up seaweed salad and pickled ginger. He took his shower, drank a beer, and went straight to sleep.
So now I'm wondering what to do--go do more tourist stuff on my own, or go to sleep to match Bill's schedule? It seems like nothing starts or opens early around here, so maybe it is best to do things in the cool of the evening and sleep during the heat of the day.
It's 2 pm now, so if I did fall asleep, I could just call it an afternoon nap...
Friday, January 29, 2010
Greetings From the Future
I made it! It was a v-e-r-y long day and night, but I have emerged on the other side of the globe, two days later, happy to be here.
I was pretty groggy from the sleep-deprivation when I arrived, and even managed to get yelled at by the taxi coordinator at the airport. But I did get a cab, found my way to Bill's room, then stumbled around in the dark because I couldn't figure out how to turn the darn light switches on. Thankfully, Mom had given me a flashlight, so I took a shower and collapsed into bed around 3 am.
When I awoke at 7, I discovered that one has to insert one's key card into a slot on the wall to activate the lights. Who knew? I've already stubbed my toes on the bathroom entryway (why would you make the bathroom floor an inch higher than the rest of the room?), found the calamansi juice Bill left for me in the mini-fridge, found the "business center" computers off the lobby, the gym and the pool, and taken a walk around the neighborhood.
It is hot and sticky, like August in Tennessee, and it isn't even 9 o'clock yet. My normally smooth, straight hair has gone into a tropical frizz-fest. I had my morning coffee at a sidewalk table down the street from the hotel, soaking up the sights and sounds of city life, then walked over to a quasi-Indian stand and had a roti prata and mango juice for breakfast. The prata was like a flour tortilla cooked with scrambled egg inside, accompanied by a spicy sauce (masala, maybe?). The mango juice was fantastic. Is it time for a nap yet?
I'm still pretty pooped from the traveling but am conflicted as to what schedule I should get on--should I match Bill's awake hours (midnight to noon), or bat around the city while he sleeps during the day? We always knew there wasn't going to be too much togetherness on this trip, but I'd like to see the guy at least some of the time.
I'm feeling a bit city-intimidated, as I often do in unfamiliar places until I find my way around. My plan for the rest of the morning is to go take a swim, and then maybe go get a massage, to loosen up all those cramped muscles from the plane. Then Bill will be home from work around 12:30 and we'll decide how we're going to work this.
This is going to be a fun adventure!
I was pretty groggy from the sleep-deprivation when I arrived, and even managed to get yelled at by the taxi coordinator at the airport. But I did get a cab, found my way to Bill's room, then stumbled around in the dark because I couldn't figure out how to turn the darn light switches on. Thankfully, Mom had given me a flashlight, so I took a shower and collapsed into bed around 3 am.
When I awoke at 7, I discovered that one has to insert one's key card into a slot on the wall to activate the lights. Who knew? I've already stubbed my toes on the bathroom entryway (why would you make the bathroom floor an inch higher than the rest of the room?), found the calamansi juice Bill left for me in the mini-fridge, found the "business center" computers off the lobby, the gym and the pool, and taken a walk around the neighborhood.
It is hot and sticky, like August in Tennessee, and it isn't even 9 o'clock yet. My normally smooth, straight hair has gone into a tropical frizz-fest. I had my morning coffee at a sidewalk table down the street from the hotel, soaking up the sights and sounds of city life, then walked over to a quasi-Indian stand and had a roti prata and mango juice for breakfast. The prata was like a flour tortilla cooked with scrambled egg inside, accompanied by a spicy sauce (masala, maybe?). The mango juice was fantastic. Is it time for a nap yet?
I'm still pretty pooped from the traveling but am conflicted as to what schedule I should get on--should I match Bill's awake hours (midnight to noon), or bat around the city while he sleeps during the day? We always knew there wasn't going to be too much togetherness on this trip, but I'd like to see the guy at least some of the time.
I'm feeling a bit city-intimidated, as I often do in unfamiliar places until I find my way around. My plan for the rest of the morning is to go take a swim, and then maybe go get a massage, to loosen up all those cramped muscles from the plane. Then Bill will be home from work around 12:30 and we'll decide how we're going to work this.
This is going to be a fun adventure!
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Next Stop: LA
It's been a great visit with the kidlets and their friends. Today, stuffed baggage on wheels, I will take the bus to the train station, take the train to the airport, and take the plane to Southern California.
I will spend the night with my mom, then take the shuttle to LAX in the morning. Then, after all that running around, I shall plunk my bottom in a seat and hang on for the next 11 hours to Tokyo. I get a 90-minute layover in Narita airport, then another 8 hours to Singapore. I can't even imagine at this point how crazy-tired and disoriented I will be when I land at 1 am on Friday.
But this is what it takes to be an international traveler, I suppose. I've got books, knitting, and a puzzle magazine to keep my mind occupied, and plenty of ibuprofen to keep my body from seizing up.
The next time I write, I will be literally half-way around the globe. Awesome!
Sunday, January 24, 2010
More Fab Eats
It seems as though life in Seattle with my children revolves around food. If I lived here, I have no doubt that I'd eventually weigh 300 pounds.
We started off the morning with Brother Jerry and S-I-L Kellie driving up from Olympia. Friend Doug and I picked up Friend Christy and headed into Chinatown to Jade Garden, where we six met up for dim sum (little bites). It was a crowded, noisy, crazy place, where they plunked down a pot of tea, handed out plates and chopsticks, and then wheeled carts of little bamboo steam pots around.
You point, and they plop the dishes onto the lazy-susan in the center of the table. They are trying to sell you everything, you are trying to only get things you like. Christy took charge by standing up and saying "NO!" to most of the waitress' suggestions, and countering with her own "Do you have any....?"
The waitress had giant scissors she used to cut the bites in half, so everyone could get a taste. There were fluffy dumplings stuffed with BBQ Pork, tender rice noodle-burrito things stuffed with shrimp, sesame-encrusted rolls and flaky pastries stuffed with ??? The textures ranged from crispy and crunchy to soft and slippery, the tastes all fabulous and exotic. Christy then started ordering off the menu, sending them back to the kitchen to bring perfectly cooked crisp-tender Chinese broccoli with a spicy brown sauce, and still more interesting nuggets to try. We ate and ate and ate until we could eat no more. The bill worked out to less than $10 per person with the tip.
Jerry and Kellie then took off to go visit their daughter Angela at her college, and drop off some stuff for her, while Doug, Alex, Christy and I drove downtown to the Seattle Art Museum. Christy had free passes for all of us, (Jerry and Kellie met us inside later) and we spent the next four hours immersing ourselves in the eclectic collection. There were special exhibits on Alexander Calder of mobile kinetic sculpture fame, and Michaelangelo, with some breathtaking rooms on the Sistine Chapel ceiling and Last Judgment altar-piece, complete with original study-drawings from the master himself.
We then visited Fran's Chocolate across the street from the museum. This is a chocolatier where the goodies are displayed in glass cases like jewelry. A Tiffany's of chocolate.
We all split up for awhile (I went back to Alex's house for a nap!). When Doug, Christy and Alex came home around 7:30, we then turned our attention to where to go for dinner. We ended up in Alki Beach at Duke's Chowder House, where Doug had stuffed halibut, Christy had fish & chips, Alex had blackened fish tacos and I had crab chowder, lobster chowder, and a prawn & crab salad. Wow. I got my shellfish fix, for sure.
We stayed up until midnight, laughing and talking. These kids are so, so bright, I am in awe of their free-ranging conversation and quick, clever humor.
Off to bed. I am sleeping on an air mattress I purchased last year (for just this purpose--providing me a comfortable place to snooze when visiting), in "the snake room." Alex and Doug have two roommates, Morgan and Nick, and they have 3 boa constrictors. Don't freak out--they are contained in giant, locked aquariums with heat lamps. They are in winter torpor mode; I rarely see them, unless I peer into their fake-log den, where they slumber in hibernation. Sleeping in the room with the heat lamps concerned me at first, but the air mattress is cold, so I sleep at a comfortably cool temp without night sweats. Yea!
Alex's house is cute and comfortable--although much of the conversation revolves around what to do with the rough-stucco walls in the living room, or how to renovate and update the kitchen. They have only been in the house for six months, so they are processing how to increase the value of the house without spending too much money on things that won't translate to a higher price when they sell, hopefully in about 5 years. The house actually reminds me of the house I owned in Costa Mesa when I met Bill, eleventy billion years ago. I am sleeping in what was once a garage, now converted into a game room. Three bedrooms and two baths, and very livable.
Alex is at work today. When Doug wakes up, he will take me to Juli's where I will visit and pick up my dirty laundry, then Alex and I will meet up when he gets off work at 6.
Then, we will go out for...Indian Food!
We started off the morning with Brother Jerry and S-I-L Kellie driving up from Olympia. Friend Doug and I picked up Friend Christy and headed into Chinatown to Jade Garden, where we six met up for dim sum (little bites). It was a crowded, noisy, crazy place, where they plunked down a pot of tea, handed out plates and chopsticks, and then wheeled carts of little bamboo steam pots around.
You point, and they plop the dishes onto the lazy-susan in the center of the table. They are trying to sell you everything, you are trying to only get things you like. Christy took charge by standing up and saying "NO!" to most of the waitress' suggestions, and countering with her own "Do you have any....?"
The waitress had giant scissors she used to cut the bites in half, so everyone could get a taste. There were fluffy dumplings stuffed with BBQ Pork, tender rice noodle-burrito things stuffed with shrimp, sesame-encrusted rolls and flaky pastries stuffed with ??? The textures ranged from crispy and crunchy to soft and slippery, the tastes all fabulous and exotic. Christy then started ordering off the menu, sending them back to the kitchen to bring perfectly cooked crisp-tender Chinese broccoli with a spicy brown sauce, and still more interesting nuggets to try. We ate and ate and ate until we could eat no more. The bill worked out to less than $10 per person with the tip.
Jerry and Kellie then took off to go visit their daughter Angela at her college, and drop off some stuff for her, while Doug, Alex, Christy and I drove downtown to the Seattle Art Museum. Christy had free passes for all of us, (Jerry and Kellie met us inside later) and we spent the next four hours immersing ourselves in the eclectic collection. There were special exhibits on Alexander Calder of mobile kinetic sculpture fame, and Michaelangelo, with some breathtaking rooms on the Sistine Chapel ceiling and Last Judgment altar-piece, complete with original study-drawings from the master himself.
We then visited Fran's Chocolate across the street from the museum. This is a chocolatier where the goodies are displayed in glass cases like jewelry. A Tiffany's of chocolate.
We all split up for awhile (I went back to Alex's house for a nap!). When Doug, Christy and Alex came home around 7:30, we then turned our attention to where to go for dinner. We ended up in Alki Beach at Duke's Chowder House, where Doug had stuffed halibut, Christy had fish & chips, Alex had blackened fish tacos and I had crab chowder, lobster chowder, and a prawn & crab salad. Wow. I got my shellfish fix, for sure.
We stayed up until midnight, laughing and talking. These kids are so, so bright, I am in awe of their free-ranging conversation and quick, clever humor.
Off to bed. I am sleeping on an air mattress I purchased last year (for just this purpose--providing me a comfortable place to snooze when visiting), in "the snake room." Alex and Doug have two roommates, Morgan and Nick, and they have 3 boa constrictors. Don't freak out--they are contained in giant, locked aquariums with heat lamps. They are in winter torpor mode; I rarely see them, unless I peer into their fake-log den, where they slumber in hibernation. Sleeping in the room with the heat lamps concerned me at first, but the air mattress is cold, so I sleep at a comfortably cool temp without night sweats. Yea!
Alex's house is cute and comfortable--although much of the conversation revolves around what to do with the rough-stucco walls in the living room, or how to renovate and update the kitchen. They have only been in the house for six months, so they are processing how to increase the value of the house without spending too much money on things that won't translate to a higher price when they sell, hopefully in about 5 years. The house actually reminds me of the house I owned in Costa Mesa when I met Bill, eleventy billion years ago. I am sleeping in what was once a garage, now converted into a game room. Three bedrooms and two baths, and very livable.
Alex is at work today. When Doug wakes up, he will take me to Juli's where I will visit and pick up my dirty laundry, then Alex and I will meet up when he gets off work at 6.
Then, we will go out for...Indian Food!
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Further Seattle Adventures
My brother Jerry, who knows of these things, says the name for my space-time dislocation is "Jet Lag." Sheesh. Who knew? And I thought I was unique in my disorientation. Never mind.
Avatar was awesome. The sheer beauty of the film (and in 3-D IMAX, as a bonus) made me overlook the fact that Cameron stole from EVERYONE, including himself! If you've ever seen Dances With Wolves, you've got the basic plot--evil capitalists/military try to destroy a gentle, beautiful race of indigenous peoples, an ordinary soldier becomes assimilated into the tribe, falls in love and goes native, fights his own race to save his new friends, yada, yada. There were Transformer/Terminator weapon machines, fantasy forest creatures a la Star Wars, Phenomenon plant communication, even a little bit of To Hell and Back Audie Murphy battle shenanigans. All surrounded by James Horner's ponderous, derivative musical score, plagiarized from Samuel Barber (Horner is such a musical slut) and overlaid with a lot of chanting tribal drums.
But oh my goodness, the visuals were breathtaking. And it passed the storytelling test, despite the trite plot--I couldn't wait to see what would happen next.
After the movie, Alex, Christy, Juli and I bussed downtown to the edge of Capitol Hill, and embarked on a tapas meal--what Christy called Spanish dim sum. Little plates of goodies to share--dates wrapped in bacon with vinaigrette greens and picked onions; carnitas pork with flour tortillas and tomatillo sauce; tiny baked blue cheese souffles with port wine reduction; fundido cheese fondue with dippers like Granny Smith apples, garlic crostini, and spicy linguisa sausage; Puerco Asado with pico de gallo; clams, prawns and calamari with fideo noodles in a spicy tomato sauce; potato croquettes with tomato jam and sharp Cotija cheese; all topped off with a bottle of Spanish champagne. At the end of the meal, we all shared a Chocolate Diablo, a giant slab of dark chocolate mousse spiked with cayenne, sitting on a bed of burnt meringue, drizzled with caramel sauce and sprinkled with cocoa nibs and bitter almonds. Wow. It was a stunning meal, and we got a 50% discount (even on the liquor), because Christy is the night auditor at the Alexis Hotel and had a coupon.
We then took a hike to the bus stop (a welcome relief--all those little bites add up to a gargantuan meal!) and accompanied Juli to her hotel, The Monaco, so she could begin her work shift at 9. Nice place, very classy.
Then we all walked some more and took our respective buses to West Seattle. Alex got me settled in the back room (what a cute house he has--more on this later), and in the words of Samuel Pepys, "And so, to bed."
Avatar was awesome. The sheer beauty of the film (and in 3-D IMAX, as a bonus) made me overlook the fact that Cameron stole from EVERYONE, including himself! If you've ever seen Dances With Wolves, you've got the basic plot--evil capitalists/military try to destroy a gentle, beautiful race of indigenous peoples, an ordinary soldier becomes assimilated into the tribe, falls in love and goes native, fights his own race to save his new friends, yada, yada. There were Transformer/Terminator weapon machines, fantasy forest creatures a la Star Wars, Phenomenon plant communication, even a little bit of To Hell and Back Audie Murphy battle shenanigans. All surrounded by James Horner's ponderous, derivative musical score, plagiarized from Samuel Barber (Horner is such a musical slut) and overlaid with a lot of chanting tribal drums.
But oh my goodness, the visuals were breathtaking. And it passed the storytelling test, despite the trite plot--I couldn't wait to see what would happen next.
After the movie, Alex, Christy, Juli and I bussed downtown to the edge of Capitol Hill, and embarked on a tapas meal--what Christy called Spanish dim sum. Little plates of goodies to share--dates wrapped in bacon with vinaigrette greens and picked onions; carnitas pork with flour tortillas and tomatillo sauce; tiny baked blue cheese souffles with port wine reduction; fundido cheese fondue with dippers like Granny Smith apples, garlic crostini, and spicy linguisa sausage; Puerco Asado with pico de gallo; clams, prawns and calamari with fideo noodles in a spicy tomato sauce; potato croquettes with tomato jam and sharp Cotija cheese; all topped off with a bottle of Spanish champagne. At the end of the meal, we all shared a Chocolate Diablo, a giant slab of dark chocolate mousse spiked with cayenne, sitting on a bed of burnt meringue, drizzled with caramel sauce and sprinkled with cocoa nibs and bitter almonds. Wow. It was a stunning meal, and we got a 50% discount (even on the liquor), because Christy is the night auditor at the Alexis Hotel and had a coupon.
We then took a hike to the bus stop (a welcome relief--all those little bites add up to a gargantuan meal!) and accompanied Juli to her hotel, The Monaco, so she could begin her work shift at 9. Nice place, very classy.
Then we all walked some more and took our respective buses to West Seattle. Alex got me settled in the back room (what a cute house he has--more on this later), and in the words of Samuel Pepys, "And so, to bed."
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
The Space-Time Continuum Deposits Me in Seattle
I'm here! My mind is still trying to catch up with my body's location. Since it didn't take 6 days to drive the distance, I am having some dislocation issues. What day is it? I was in Chicago, took a five-hour flight and arrived in Seattle a mere 3 hours from when I began? And when I cross the Pacific, it's only going to get worse, except that the flight will be 19 hours long and I will arrive 2 days later. Obviously, I do not acclimate to time travel very well when it goes faster than driving speed.
But all the planning had its rewards. The travel to Kentucky and the early flight out of Louisville came off flawlessly. No knitting needles were confiscated. Baggage arrived intact in Seattle and signage to find the Light Rail Station was clear and accurate. I was able to buy a ticket to downtown for only $2.50. The electric train was fast and quiet, although I was confused by the attire of my fellow travelers--they were bundled up as if it were 20 degrees outside instead of a balmy 55. I was comfortable in my short sleeves/no jacket, albeit underdressed by local standards.
Juli and Tyra met me at the station terminus and then we hung around on 3rd Avenue at what Juli called "the most disgusting bus stop in Seattle," waiting for a Number 3 bus. Three #7s came by in a row, and many other numbers, while we watched the street people and marveled at the decidedly strange fashion statements getting on and off the buses. At last we made our connection and made it home, and the bus driver even took my rail ticket as a transfer.
I took a short nap, Juli made a delicious pizza for dinner, and we all talked and laughed until bedtime. Today, J and I will shop for ingredients and make Julia Child's Beef Bourguignon, and have a small dinner party with son Alex, niece Angela and friend Sara, Kerne's sibs Tyra & Beorn tonight.
At some point I will switch my digs over to Alex's house, and on Friday, we are all going to see Avatar at the IMAX in 3-D. Wow. I'm hoping to see my brother and his family over the weekend.
It is good to be here.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
I think I'm ready (?)
I've been to the dump. I've washed my clothes. I've packed my suitcases, one for cold weather (Seattle), and one for hot weather (Singapore). I have all my paperwork and my passport and ID. I have a book and my knitting. I have all my drugs and vitamins. I've got my camera, batteries, memory sticks, notebook, cell phone and charger. All my fluids and gels are in 3 oz. containers in a quart ziplock bag. Phone list. Money. Toothbrush. Eyeglass Rx. Umbrella. Sunscreen and insect repellent.
I ran out of time and decided to use the extra day I budgeted for this possibility. Tomorrow I will clean house while ruminating on what I possibly have forgotten. I'll drive up to Jeannie's on Monday and we'll have dinner together before sleeping fast and getting up in the dead of night to drive to Louisville for my 7 am flight on Tuesday.
Because I fly so infrequently, this has turned into a major production. I know I am overthinking this. I have been very conservative on the amount of clothes I'm taking. I don't want to be overburdened with luggage. Everything is in red and black so I can mix and match. If I really have forgotten something, I can buy what I need, right? Right.
Chapstick? Nail clippers?
I am making myself crazy. Never again will I berate Bill on his packing procrastination and his before-flight jitters.
I ran out of time and decided to use the extra day I budgeted for this possibility. Tomorrow I will clean house while ruminating on what I possibly have forgotten. I'll drive up to Jeannie's on Monday and we'll have dinner together before sleeping fast and getting up in the dead of night to drive to Louisville for my 7 am flight on Tuesday.
Because I fly so infrequently, this has turned into a major production. I know I am overthinking this. I have been very conservative on the amount of clothes I'm taking. I don't want to be overburdened with luggage. Everything is in red and black so I can mix and match. If I really have forgotten something, I can buy what I need, right? Right.
Chapstick? Nail clippers?
I am making myself crazy. Never again will I berate Bill on his packing procrastination and his before-flight jitters.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Crunch Time
Bill is in high-stress mode. Yesterday, he got an email from a shipmate that sent him into a major tizzy. Seems as though they are going to move the crew from the hotel back to the ship to save money, two weeks into the job. That would put him back on the ship right about the time I would be arriving on the 29th, leaving me with nowhere to stay. I wouldn't even be able to stay with him on the ship, as I have no security clearance.
He raged throughout the day, demanding that I try to get a refund on my ticket (bought on Friday morning), cancel the trip, and expecting me to be as upset as he was. I decided to "just say no."
I said no to cancelling the trip, no to worrying about where I would stay, no to joining in Bill's angst, and no to stressing out.
Where has all this calmness in me come from? I used to be the one who raged, stomped about and tried to wrestle inconvenience and outrage into something I could control and make right. Now, I just float. Is it the anti-depressant? Is it wisdom or faith? The experience with cancer? I'm not sure why I am suddenly a completely different person (Goodbye forever, Type-A personality), but I just can't get upset anymore about things I can't control. My continued health depends on many things, but a positive attitude and a calm, stress-free mental state can't hurt. I just don't worry about any of it anymore.
No luxury hotel? I'll find a cheap one. No per-diem money to play with? I'll use my eBay earnings. My serenity seemed only to fuel Bill's panic, and he kept ramping up the descriptions of all the dire scenarios he anticipated. I finally had to tell him to keep his blankety-blank negativity to himself, as he was making me crazy and super-annoyed. I was sure it would all work out, and by golly, I was going to have my Singapore vacation no matter what.
Sure enough, he received another email late last night, where his shipmate gave more details, and reassured him that it was okay to "bring the wife out," as Bill was scheduled for the night shift, and they wouldn't move the night workers back to the ship because there was no way they could sleep during the day when the ship was being torn apart. Bill finally relented his distress over that and went on to worry about other things he could do nothing about.
So, if Bill is on the midnight to 8am shift, we will be having lunches together instead of dinners, and I will play tourist while he is sleeping, instead of while he's working. This is easy. We'll work it out.
Now the floor is strewn with clothes and toiletries, staging for a final packing of the seabag. I have resisted packing for myself, until Bill is gone and life is a little quieter. I've been making lists and putting things away, cooking up perishables and taking out the trash. I like coming home to a clean house, and there's just no point in trying to do that until he's gone.
If I can just keep him from going ballistic for two more days, we should be fine, and I can get on with my plan of becoming an International Woman of Intrigue.
He raged throughout the day, demanding that I try to get a refund on my ticket (bought on Friday morning), cancel the trip, and expecting me to be as upset as he was. I decided to "just say no."
I said no to cancelling the trip, no to worrying about where I would stay, no to joining in Bill's angst, and no to stressing out.
Where has all this calmness in me come from? I used to be the one who raged, stomped about and tried to wrestle inconvenience and outrage into something I could control and make right. Now, I just float. Is it the anti-depressant? Is it wisdom or faith? The experience with cancer? I'm not sure why I am suddenly a completely different person (Goodbye forever, Type-A personality), but I just can't get upset anymore about things I can't control. My continued health depends on many things, but a positive attitude and a calm, stress-free mental state can't hurt. I just don't worry about any of it anymore.
No luxury hotel? I'll find a cheap one. No per-diem money to play with? I'll use my eBay earnings. My serenity seemed only to fuel Bill's panic, and he kept ramping up the descriptions of all the dire scenarios he anticipated. I finally had to tell him to keep his blankety-blank negativity to himself, as he was making me crazy and super-annoyed. I was sure it would all work out, and by golly, I was going to have my Singapore vacation no matter what.
Sure enough, he received another email late last night, where his shipmate gave more details, and reassured him that it was okay to "bring the wife out," as Bill was scheduled for the night shift, and they wouldn't move the night workers back to the ship because there was no way they could sleep during the day when the ship was being torn apart. Bill finally relented his distress over that and went on to worry about other things he could do nothing about.
So, if Bill is on the midnight to 8am shift, we will be having lunches together instead of dinners, and I will play tourist while he is sleeping, instead of while he's working. This is easy. We'll work it out.
Now the floor is strewn with clothes and toiletries, staging for a final packing of the seabag. I have resisted packing for myself, until Bill is gone and life is a little quieter. I've been making lists and putting things away, cooking up perishables and taking out the trash. I like coming home to a clean house, and there's just no point in trying to do that until he's gone.
If I can just keep him from going ballistic for two more days, we should be fine, and I can get on with my plan of becoming an International Woman of Intrigue.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Now Where Did I Put That To-Do List?
Plans are coming together, and time is speeding up. All of a sudden, it's time for Bill to get into his frantic before-leaving mode.
Over the years, I have learned to expect some grand project, usually beginning in the two or three days before his departure. There was the one year when 48 hours before getting on a plane, he tore out the entire 2nd floor banisters around the stairwell, leaving a gaping hole with a 14 foot drop in the floor, just perfect for killing sleep-walking toddlers. Then there was the 10-week bathroom renovation that was supposed to take 2 weeks. And the rebuilding of the porch steps that were completed in the dark, 6 hours before we had to leave for the airport. Sigh.
He's gotten better. This time, he's been cutting and nailing trim strips on all the joint-gaps of our 30-sided house. He calls it "finishing building our house," because this simple step was never done. It looks great. I just wonder which will take precedence--packing his seabag, or will he still be out in the freezing cold, sawing and nailing lumber right up until the point of his departure?
I counter by fattening him up. I am baking pies, as fast as my sweet-toothed husband can consume them. Two days ago, it was my Killer-Apple. Today, I was going to do cherry, but Elvin and Debbie just sent the long-awaited Lemon Chess Pie recipe we raved about a year ago when we visited them in Oklahoma in January. I think I'll try my hand at that.
I have tickets for myself for all the legs of my trip except the one to Singapore and back to LA. We are still nervous about buying that non-refundable ticket until he actually gets to Singapore and knows for sure that he will be in a hotel or apartment and the ship won't be suddenly sent somewhere else.
And I too have a million things to do before closing up the house and winging away. I just need to remember everything and find that list...
Over the years, I have learned to expect some grand project, usually beginning in the two or three days before his departure. There was the one year when 48 hours before getting on a plane, he tore out the entire 2nd floor banisters around the stairwell, leaving a gaping hole with a 14 foot drop in the floor, just perfect for killing sleep-walking toddlers. Then there was the 10-week bathroom renovation that was supposed to take 2 weeks. And the rebuilding of the porch steps that were completed in the dark, 6 hours before we had to leave for the airport. Sigh.
He's gotten better. This time, he's been cutting and nailing trim strips on all the joint-gaps of our 30-sided house. He calls it "finishing building our house," because this simple step was never done. It looks great. I just wonder which will take precedence--packing his seabag, or will he still be out in the freezing cold, sawing and nailing lumber right up until the point of his departure?
I counter by fattening him up. I am baking pies, as fast as my sweet-toothed husband can consume them. Two days ago, it was my Killer-Apple. Today, I was going to do cherry, but Elvin and Debbie just sent the long-awaited Lemon Chess Pie recipe we raved about a year ago when we visited them in Oklahoma in January. I think I'll try my hand at that.
I have tickets for myself for all the legs of my trip except the one to Singapore and back to LA. We are still nervous about buying that non-refundable ticket until he actually gets to Singapore and knows for sure that he will be in a hotel or apartment and the ship won't be suddenly sent somewhere else.
And I too have a million things to do before closing up the house and winging away. I just need to remember everything and find that list...
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Getting Ready to Go Again
No sooner do we return home with our dirty laundry, it's time to get ready to leave again. Bill is (tentatively--always tentatively) scheduled to fly to Singapore on January 11. We still don't know if the ship is actually going to dry dock, or just rumored to be headed that way.
In the meantime, I have an intense desire to see my children. Juli was in the hospital again, this time for 3 days over Christmas. I haven't heard from Alex, and I'm starting to worry about them both. So my plan is to drive to Lexington, KY to Cousin Jean's and leave my car there for the duration. She will take me to Louisville and I'll fly to Seattle on the 19th. Then to Long Beach, CA on the 26th. If the Singapore thing is a go, I will then fly from LAX to Seoul and Singapore on the 27th, arriving on the 29th.
The return to LA will probably be on Feb 10. I'm still trying to figure out my return to Louisville and then home, probably on March 2nd. That gets me back to work on March 4.
I am looking forward to spending February in the Land of 70 Degrees. There will be friends to see and old stomping grounds to explore. And time, that precious commodity, with Mom.
March will be be my Merry Medical Month. A final CT lung scan. Oncology checkup. GYN annual. Bone density scan. And then there's taxes to be done. It will be a busy homecoming. Busy will have to be my watchword this year. Bill's promotion to First Engineer requires that he "get into the rotation" of four months on and four months off with the other Firsts--which means that he won't be home until the end of July at the earliest. It will be a long 7-8 months for both of us. but then he will be home for at least the next four months.
It's very strange to be planning out most of the coming year, three days into 2010. I've given up on the concept of resolutions, so plotting out the calendar will have to suffice.
In the meantime, I have an intense desire to see my children. Juli was in the hospital again, this time for 3 days over Christmas. I haven't heard from Alex, and I'm starting to worry about them both. So my plan is to drive to Lexington, KY to Cousin Jean's and leave my car there for the duration. She will take me to Louisville and I'll fly to Seattle on the 19th. Then to Long Beach, CA on the 26th. If the Singapore thing is a go, I will then fly from LAX to Seoul and Singapore on the 27th, arriving on the 29th.
The return to LA will probably be on Feb 10. I'm still trying to figure out my return to Louisville and then home, probably on March 2nd. That gets me back to work on March 4.
I am looking forward to spending February in the Land of 70 Degrees. There will be friends to see and old stomping grounds to explore. And time, that precious commodity, with Mom.
March will be be my Merry Medical Month. A final CT lung scan. Oncology checkup. GYN annual. Bone density scan. And then there's taxes to be done. It will be a busy homecoming. Busy will have to be my watchword this year. Bill's promotion to First Engineer requires that he "get into the rotation" of four months on and four months off with the other Firsts--which means that he won't be home until the end of July at the earliest. It will be a long 7-8 months for both of us. but then he will be home for at least the next four months.
It's very strange to be planning out most of the coming year, three days into 2010. I've given up on the concept of resolutions, so plotting out the calendar will have to suffice.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Home Again Today
We laid my dear mother-in-law to rest on Sunday, with a celebratory service at her church of 30 years, Grace United Methodist. The pastor told stories of her zest for life, her infinite curiosity and interjected humor into the somber proceeding. He had only known her from his visits to the nursing home, so he seemed genuinely delighted to retell our stories of the Anne we had known.
A wonderful reception followed the service. Almost all of the family was there, in spite of the horrible weather and bad roads. The church ladies put out homemade cookies and cakes, coffee and iced tea. We supplemented with a large tray of fruit and another of meats and cheeses. We told stories, renewed acquaintances, and laughed much.
We then repaired to the Super 8 motel where we were staying, and then on to the Szechuan Palace, where our group of 20 chowed down on mega-dishes of Chinese Food. This family can certainly put away the food!
I spent yesterday with Bill, Bud and Carolyn. We seem to have a peaceful closure. Through the ceremonies we participated in, in the gathering of family and friends, it seems as though the last five years when she was functionally "gone" have now receded, supplanted by all the memories of the Anne we all loved and treasured. It is an unexpected blessing to have those memories back at the end.
Bill and Bud are down at the VA hospital in St. Louis this morning. Carolyn and I are driving down to meet up with them at Aunt Millie's house in Alton. Then cousins will take Carolyn to the airport and Bill and I will get on the road towards home.
Oh, and I got an email this morning that we have been approved as potential Malinois parents, whenever we are ready.
Blue skies and clear highways ahead.
A wonderful reception followed the service. Almost all of the family was there, in spite of the horrible weather and bad roads. The church ladies put out homemade cookies and cakes, coffee and iced tea. We supplemented with a large tray of fruit and another of meats and cheeses. We told stories, renewed acquaintances, and laughed much.
We then repaired to the Super 8 motel where we were staying, and then on to the Szechuan Palace, where our group of 20 chowed down on mega-dishes of Chinese Food. This family can certainly put away the food!
I spent yesterday with Bill, Bud and Carolyn. We seem to have a peaceful closure. Through the ceremonies we participated in, in the gathering of family and friends, it seems as though the last five years when she was functionally "gone" have now receded, supplanted by all the memories of the Anne we all loved and treasured. It is an unexpected blessing to have those memories back at the end.
Bill and Bud are down at the VA hospital in St. Louis this morning. Carolyn and I are driving down to meet up with them at Aunt Millie's house in Alton. Then cousins will take Carolyn to the airport and Bill and I will get on the road towards home.
Oh, and I got an email this morning that we have been approved as potential Malinois parents, whenever we are ready.
Blue skies and clear highways ahead.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Christmas Eve
I feel a bit bad about letting Christmas take a back seat to the arrangements for Anne's service on Sunday. Our Christmas Day will be spent driving up to Illinois--but maybe we can find some carols on the radio, and give our time over to a little laughter and cheer in spite of it.
This morning Bill has to go back to Johnson City to have his TB skin test looked at and pronounced benign. You'd think in this era we'd be able to take a digital picture and email it to them, but that has apparently not been thought of yet. Or maybe they think we'd photoshop the image? It's an annoyance.
I will do laundry and pack bags, and gather up all the stuff we need to take with us. I am amazed that I got all my errands done yesterday, and even got my tooth patched. The dentist didn't even have to numb me up, and the whole thing took less than 20 minutes.
The car damage is almost $5,600, but the insurance will take care of it on the offending driver's policy. We're slated for January 4 for that project.
Yesterday, the Malinois inspector deemed us worthy pet-parents, so we will be pre-approved for an adoption when I get back from the Orient. If that's what we decide to do. Sometimes, fate intervenes. Maybe the right dog will just appear when we're ready.
This time right now is bittersweet. Mom's passing, while a relief and a blessing, puts a damper on our spirits. It's another reminder that time is fleeting, and seizing joy wherever one can find it is imperative.
Happy Christmas to all.
This morning Bill has to go back to Johnson City to have his TB skin test looked at and pronounced benign. You'd think in this era we'd be able to take a digital picture and email it to them, but that has apparently not been thought of yet. Or maybe they think we'd photoshop the image? It's an annoyance.
I will do laundry and pack bags, and gather up all the stuff we need to take with us. I am amazed that I got all my errands done yesterday, and even got my tooth patched. The dentist didn't even have to numb me up, and the whole thing took less than 20 minutes.
The car damage is almost $5,600, but the insurance will take care of it on the offending driver's policy. We're slated for January 4 for that project.
Yesterday, the Malinois inspector deemed us worthy pet-parents, so we will be pre-approved for an adoption when I get back from the Orient. If that's what we decide to do. Sometimes, fate intervenes. Maybe the right dog will just appear when we're ready.
This time right now is bittersweet. Mom's passing, while a relief and a blessing, puts a damper on our spirits. It's another reminder that time is fleeting, and seizing joy wherever one can find it is imperative.
Happy Christmas to all.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
More Details...
It seems as though all these days now are too busy. We still haven't figured out when we are leaving to go to Illinois, but in the meantime, here are some of the things on my list for today:
Order food trays for post-service reception
Download photos and print them for the picture board
Set up appointment for us with the lawyer
Make motel reservations
Take the Hyundai to the body shop for an estimate
Pay Bill's union dues before the end of the year
Find someone in Jacksonville to buy potted plants
Start packing clothes and stuff to take to Illinois
Go to work
Yesterday, Bill went all the way to Johnson City for his DOT drug test and TB skin test. I went to the Hyundai dealer, Office Max for art supplies for the photo board, Fedex to drop off packages, the hardware store to return a door closer, the pharmacy to pick up scripts, gas station, and Walmart. Then home to bake biscotti, deal with a no-heat problem at one of the rental houses and fix dinner.
My idea yesterday was to use potted plants instead of cut flowers at the memorial service, as the variety of "casual" flowers is limited this time of year. Anne was also not a stuffy person. Having big formal arrangements of cut flowers, cloying sprays of roses, etc., just wouldn't do. I'm not sure if I should do that myself when I get to Jacksonville, or delegate someone there to do that.
Bill's idea was to offer Pease's candy party squares (his mom's Christmas favorite) at the reception for family and friends. She used to send boxes of the precious treat, kind of a creamy bark-type candy with bits of hard crunchy candy imbedded in it, to us. A visit to their website and a call to Springfield led to the disappointing news that they "stopped making those" about a year ago. Rats.
Tomorrow, Bill has to go back to Johnson City to get his TB test read. The Dog Inspector, Dianna, is coming at noon. I have an appointment to get my broken molar fixed at 2:30. I plan on spending the evening making the picture board with photos of my mother-in-law.
I'm feeling a little stressed with all the details -- the ones I know about, and the ones I haven't even thought of yet...
Order food trays for post-service reception
Download photos and print them for the picture board
Set up appointment for us with the lawyer
Make motel reservations
Take the Hyundai to the body shop for an estimate
Pay Bill's union dues before the end of the year
Find someone in Jacksonville to buy potted plants
Start packing clothes and stuff to take to Illinois
Go to work
Yesterday, Bill went all the way to Johnson City for his DOT drug test and TB skin test. I went to the Hyundai dealer, Office Max for art supplies for the photo board, Fedex to drop off packages, the hardware store to return a door closer, the pharmacy to pick up scripts, gas station, and Walmart. Then home to bake biscotti, deal with a no-heat problem at one of the rental houses and fix dinner.
My idea yesterday was to use potted plants instead of cut flowers at the memorial service, as the variety of "casual" flowers is limited this time of year. Anne was also not a stuffy person. Having big formal arrangements of cut flowers, cloying sprays of roses, etc., just wouldn't do. I'm not sure if I should do that myself when I get to Jacksonville, or delegate someone there to do that.
Bill's idea was to offer Pease's candy party squares (his mom's Christmas favorite) at the reception for family and friends. She used to send boxes of the precious treat, kind of a creamy bark-type candy with bits of hard crunchy candy imbedded in it, to us. A visit to their website and a call to Springfield led to the disappointing news that they "stopped making those" about a year ago. Rats.
Tomorrow, Bill has to go back to Johnson City to get his TB test read. The Dog Inspector, Dianna, is coming at noon. I have an appointment to get my broken molar fixed at 2:30. I plan on spending the evening making the picture board with photos of my mother-in-law.
I'm feeling a little stressed with all the details -- the ones I know about, and the ones I haven't even thought of yet...
Saturday, December 19, 2009
What a Day!
SNOW!
Just when I think things are too incredibly boring here on the rural mountain top, I have a day like the past 36 hours to remind me that excitement isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Just when I think things are too incredibly boring here on the rural mountain top, I have a day like the past 36 hours to remind me that excitement isn't all it's cracked up to be.We started off at Oh-Dark-Thirty yesterday morning, driving off to Knoxville in the pouring rain and heavy traffic before sunrise. We got lost in downtown Knoxville. We turned around and got back on I-40, ignoring Mapquest's directions, and found our way to the gigantic UT Medical Center. We waited. Bill's orders were wrong (they hadn't included the flu shots, the DOT drug-screening or the TB skin test), and so everything was postponed while he contacted the powers that be and got it all straightened out. After a very long time (I knitted almost a full scarf), he came out with 6 holes in his arms.
We got back on the road to go home, still slick and raining hard but at least now it was lighter. Bill wanted to stop at Bass Pro Shop and I was hungry, so I dropped myself at the Cracker Barrel and told Bill to come have breakfast with me when he was done. I finished my breakfast. I read my book. I read some more and drank more coffee.
After two hours, I got up to use the rest room, and found Bill at the front desk, frantically talking to the hostess. He had apparently been looking for me for two hours, walking up and down the table aisles, driving back to Bass Pro Shop to have me paged, walking to McDonalds. They were getting ready to call the police and review the surveillance tapes when I came up behind him.
He kept saying "I thought I had LOST you!" (as he scarfed down my leftover biscuits and jelly). "Where WERE you?" (Right here, reading my book). I refused to take any responsibility for him not being able to recognize his own wife of 27 years. At one point the hostesses and Bill were standing right behind me, wondering where I was.
Now that our day's drama was done, (we thought--go ahead and read on), we finally got to laughing about it as we made our way home to Rogersville. As we came into town, the rain turned to sleet and then snow, and I remembered that I needed to go by the library to turn in my time sheet.
And there on Main Street, minding my own business, stopped and waiting to turn left into the library parking lot, some decrepit yahoo in a beat up pickup truck rear-ended me. I didn't even have time to take my foot off the brake and hit the gas to get out of his way. Boom. The whole tailgate of my new blue car (with only 7,000 miles on it) was smashed in, the bumper broke (but cushioned the crash beautifully, it was amazingly gentle even with him going 30 mph and me at a dead stop).
Bill got all the information from the driver, while I walked through the snow to go turn in my timesheet. Bill called the insurance company, who told him to go make a police report. So off we went to the police station to get that done.
At this point, the snow was really starting to come down hard; big, fat, wet flakes about the size of a silver dollar. By the time the police were done with us, we were wondering if we were going to make it home and up our driveway.
We did get up to the house, and Bill immediately put the red car down by the road. We snuggled in for a snowstorm. I heated up some leftover pasta and we were watching a movie and being thankful that the day from hell was over.
Not yet, however. At 6 pm, the power blurpped off. It went on. It went off. It went back on. At 6:30, it went off for good. We had flashlights and candles, but we finally gave up around 7:30 and went to bed to stay warm.
This morning, the power was still not on and the scene outside was a classic Winter Wonderland. The house was about 60 degrees, and we started working our way through our morning rituals without electricity.
First, there was the problem of water pressure. Without juice, the pressure pump wouldn't fill the toilet tank or keep a shower running long. Bill got a bucket of water from the tanks down in the basement to fill the toilet tank after flushing. I ran a bucket of warm water (the water heater is propane, so it was still hot) for "bathing." I got out the bottles of hand sanitizer for kitchen and bath.
Coffee was our next problem. We use a manual drip coffee pot, so all we had to do was light the propane stove with a match, and we could heat water. But we grind the beans fresh each time, and it's an electric grinder. A combination of a food chopper and then pounding them with a mortar and pestle made an acceptable, if weak, brew. Note to self: grind some beans ahead of time for an emergency stash and put it in the freezer!
Breakfast was accomplished by throwing a pound of frozen bacon on the griddle and peeling the strips off as they defrosted. Toast went on the griddle too. Eggs in the omelet pan.
Bill got the old propane heater in the basement going (once it was the only heat source for the house, before the heat pump was installed), but it was still pretty chilly upstairs. We ran around cleaning house (we had nothing else to do), and when Bill went outside to chainsaw the trees that came down in the driveway, I decided to clean out my pantry, something I've been procrastinating about for months.
The power came back on around 1:30 pm, and glory behold, stayed on! I quickly printed labels for my eBay buyers and used Bill's deer carcass cart to wheel them down the snowy driveway, hoping to beat the mail carrier. When I walked back up to the house, I quickly washed dishes, took a shower and ground some coffee beans, getting ready for a possible round two.
Life is returning to normal. When the furnace kicked back on, it was 50 degrees in the house; Now, it's back up to 64. Thousands of people are still without power, but we're doing fine. A mere 18 hours without electricity reminds me of all the things I need to do to be prepared for "an emergency." This wasn't hard, but it prompts thoughts of what we need to do better next time.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Off to the Big City
Bill made it home safely late last night. Now it's time to get up and do it again. I've decided I need a trip to the traffic and bustle of the big city to let me appreciate my sleepy, small town life. So we're going to Knoxville together--Bill to get his shots, me to knit and enjoy his company. He's done enough driving in the last few days.
I think the rush of eBay buyers has finally subsided to a few auctions per day. Those who have planned ahead have made their purchases. This week, I'll cater to the procrastinators. And the week after Christmas will be the wives who got "get what you want off eBay" from their husbands and the people who received money to spend on themselves. I'll probably shut down the operation when Bill goes to Singapore and take a vacation from auction madness for awhile.
This period of time feels like limbo. Waiting for Christmas, waiting for the trip to Illinois for the service, waiting for Bill to leave, waiting to buy my ticket and go too. There is plenty of planning to be done, but until the waiting time is over, nothing can be done.
I think the rush of eBay buyers has finally subsided to a few auctions per day. Those who have planned ahead have made their purchases. This week, I'll cater to the procrastinators. And the week after Christmas will be the wives who got "get what you want off eBay" from their husbands and the people who received money to spend on themselves. I'll probably shut down the operation when Bill goes to Singapore and take a vacation from auction madness for awhile.
This period of time feels like limbo. Waiting for Christmas, waiting for the trip to Illinois for the service, waiting for Bill to leave, waiting to buy my ticket and go too. There is plenty of planning to be done, but until the waiting time is over, nothing can be done.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Details...
The service for Anne will be held on Sunday, December 27 at 1:30 pm at Grace United Methodist Church in Jacksonville, IL.
Bill has done a super job getting everything organized, and plans on coming home on Friday via Knoxville, where he has to stop at the University of TN to get about 12 innoculations in preparation for his trip overseas in January. Cholera, yellow fever, typhoid, MMR booster, pertussis, tuberculosis skin test, polio booster, hepatitis A & B...the list is awesome. Because he does not have his childhood shot record, he has to get them all again so as to be documented. He'll then hurry home with his sore arms to meet the Malinois rescue inspector Friday afternoon.
I am off to see Mr. Acupuncture today. I have been experiencing a return of pain at my scar sites, and want to nip this inflammation before it has a chance to take hold. I also have to get to the dentist--the one tooth I didn't have crowned this year broke yesterday, so the repair is now critical.
Life is getting complicated.
Bill has done a super job getting everything organized, and plans on coming home on Friday via Knoxville, where he has to stop at the University of TN to get about 12 innoculations in preparation for his trip overseas in January. Cholera, yellow fever, typhoid, MMR booster, pertussis, tuberculosis skin test, polio booster, hepatitis A & B...the list is awesome. Because he does not have his childhood shot record, he has to get them all again so as to be documented. He'll then hurry home with his sore arms to meet the Malinois rescue inspector Friday afternoon.
I am off to see Mr. Acupuncture today. I have been experiencing a return of pain at my scar sites, and want to nip this inflammation before it has a chance to take hold. I also have to get to the dentist--the one tooth I didn't have crowned this year broke yesterday, so the repair is now critical.
Life is getting complicated.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Elsie Anne Valentine Plemitscher
Bill's mom died quietly at the nursing home yesterday afternoon. It is hard to feel the overwhelming grief that one expects at the death of a parent, mostly because she left us several years ago due to senile dementia.
Anyone who knew Anne in the past five years or so would not know what a vibrant, curious and energetic woman she was before her mind was stolen by disease. One only has to look at my husband to know her strength of character, her humor, and her practical, common-sense outlook on life.
I met Anne for the first time in the summer of 1981, when she was 52. She was a factory worker at Capitol Records' pressing plant, in the days when they still made vinyl LPs. She was also taking classes at community college, active in her church and many community organizations. She knew things--about gardening, raising livestock, how to use a grind-stone, how to compost. She recycled (before recycling was cool)! She knew how to de-tassle corn and how to get to a chicken dinner--starting with a live chicken. She was an enthusiastic Girl Scout leader; at one point her troop consisted of five blind girls, because, she declared, "they deserve the chance to be Scouts too!"
She read constantly, clipping articles of interest and sending them to friends and relatives. She bought a Nordic Track and started exercising everyday. Her drive was to constantly self-improve, and whether it took the form of canoeing in the deep woods in Minnesota, taking a class to learn how to write a story, doing the vocabulary exercises in Reader's Digest, dressing up as a clown for the hometown parades to entertain children, or playing dominoes with her grandchildren, she was always ready for action.
I remember driving with her up from St. Louis one night, in a car whose radiator leak suddenly became worse. I was all for calling Bud and having him come and rescue us, but Anne insisted we were just fine. We stopped every 5 miles and knocked on doors, begging water to refill the radiator. Anne knew how to charm even the most suspicious farmers in the dead of night.
When Juli was 10 weeks old, I flew out to see her. She immediately plopped us in the pickup truck and drove to Chicago to see the Petersons, then on to Wisconsin to see Aunt Carolyn, then back to Illinois to see her mother, Ruth, all in the stifling heat of summer, without the benefit of air conditioning (which she considered a wasteful, unhealthy invention). She and I hit every rest stop and truck stop for breast-feeding breaks, and she fixed everyone who seemed a little too curious with a gimlet eye, daring them to stare. I learned very quickly to follow her attitude, and became comfortable nursing Juli in public places without embarrassment.
After her retirement in the 1990s, she started her own business. She and Bud traveled the Midwest summer fair circuit, selling hot dogs and shave ice out of a trailer named "My Place." I first noticed something was off in April, 1998. The kids and I were on a driving trip to the West Coast, and stopped at Granny Annie's for Easter. We got up in the dark for sunrise services, but after driving around the cornfields for an hour, Anne announced that she was lost, and couldn't find the church. Bud was working in Florida, and I passed it off as isolated distraction because her husband had been gone a long time.
She started slipping away, and she didn't realize what was happening to her. After many tests and several years, no one knew definitively what was wrong. It wasn't Alzheimer's, it wasn't any other diagnosable dementia, but she was having auto accidents, wandering away in the night and losing touch with reality.
In November of 2005, she became a resident at Golden Moments Senior Care. At first, she recognized and conversed with everyone who came to visit. But over the past two years, she became more reticent, and eventually she stopped speaking all together. Where she had initially gained quite a bit of weight when she came to live there, she suddenly lost it all this year and kept losing. In the last few months, her diagnosis was "failure to thrive."
I knew and loved my mother-in-law. And I know positively that she would have hated the life she was held prisoner in. I would not be surprised if somewhere deep in her limbic brain, she decided that enough was enough.
Rest in peace, dear Anne. You had a wonderful life filled with people who loved you. We will remember you as you were before, and will not despair over your passing. In this case, it was truly a blessing, and I know this is what you would have wanted.
Anyone who knew Anne in the past five years or so would not know what a vibrant, curious and energetic woman she was before her mind was stolen by disease. One only has to look at my husband to know her strength of character, her humor, and her practical, common-sense outlook on life.
I met Anne for the first time in the summer of 1981, when she was 52. She was a factory worker at Capitol Records' pressing plant, in the days when they still made vinyl LPs. She was also taking classes at community college, active in her church and many community organizations. She knew things--about gardening, raising livestock, how to use a grind-stone, how to compost. She recycled (before recycling was cool)! She knew how to de-tassle corn and how to get to a chicken dinner--starting with a live chicken. She was an enthusiastic Girl Scout leader; at one point her troop consisted of five blind girls, because, she declared, "they deserve the chance to be Scouts too!"
She read constantly, clipping articles of interest and sending them to friends and relatives. She bought a Nordic Track and started exercising everyday. Her drive was to constantly self-improve, and whether it took the form of canoeing in the deep woods in Minnesota, taking a class to learn how to write a story, doing the vocabulary exercises in Reader's Digest, dressing up as a clown for the hometown parades to entertain children, or playing dominoes with her grandchildren, she was always ready for action.
I remember driving with her up from St. Louis one night, in a car whose radiator leak suddenly became worse. I was all for calling Bud and having him come and rescue us, but Anne insisted we were just fine. We stopped every 5 miles and knocked on doors, begging water to refill the radiator. Anne knew how to charm even the most suspicious farmers in the dead of night.
When Juli was 10 weeks old, I flew out to see her. She immediately plopped us in the pickup truck and drove to Chicago to see the Petersons, then on to Wisconsin to see Aunt Carolyn, then back to Illinois to see her mother, Ruth, all in the stifling heat of summer, without the benefit of air conditioning (which she considered a wasteful, unhealthy invention). She and I hit every rest stop and truck stop for breast-feeding breaks, and she fixed everyone who seemed a little too curious with a gimlet eye, daring them to stare. I learned very quickly to follow her attitude, and became comfortable nursing Juli in public places without embarrassment.
After her retirement in the 1990s, she started her own business. She and Bud traveled the Midwest summer fair circuit, selling hot dogs and shave ice out of a trailer named "My Place." I first noticed something was off in April, 1998. The kids and I were on a driving trip to the West Coast, and stopped at Granny Annie's for Easter. We got up in the dark for sunrise services, but after driving around the cornfields for an hour, Anne announced that she was lost, and couldn't find the church. Bud was working in Florida, and I passed it off as isolated distraction because her husband had been gone a long time.
She started slipping away, and she didn't realize what was happening to her. After many tests and several years, no one knew definitively what was wrong. It wasn't Alzheimer's, it wasn't any other diagnosable dementia, but she was having auto accidents, wandering away in the night and losing touch with reality.
In November of 2005, she became a resident at Golden Moments Senior Care. At first, she recognized and conversed with everyone who came to visit. But over the past two years, she became more reticent, and eventually she stopped speaking all together. Where she had initially gained quite a bit of weight when she came to live there, she suddenly lost it all this year and kept losing. In the last few months, her diagnosis was "failure to thrive."
I knew and loved my mother-in-law. And I know positively that she would have hated the life she was held prisoner in. I would not be surprised if somewhere deep in her limbic brain, she decided that enough was enough.
Rest in peace, dear Anne. You had a wonderful life filled with people who loved you. We will remember you as you were before, and will not despair over your passing. In this case, it was truly a blessing, and I know this is what you would have wanted.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Another Rainy Day...
I'm not even sure why I got out of bed this morning. It's so rainy and gloomy again, I just feel like curling up and taking a nap, even though I've been up for less than an hour. Enough already! The pond is full, the basement is damp, the well isn't salty, so we don't need more precipitation right now.
But rainy weather is fine for things like wrapping Christmas presents and baking cookies. Bill misses the "Cookie Exchange." In NY, our group of friends would each bake batches of 3 or 4 different treats and then swap them, so everyone got a plate full of joy with a dozen or more candies and cookies to see Bill through the holidays. I won't get quite that ambitious, but I always enjoy trying a few new recipes each year, and I want to tuck some gingerbread into the packages for the kids, just so they can taste Mom's love from afar.
When I was 10, my great-grandmother "Ma" came to our house and made raviolis, noodles and an Italian cookie called "gesh-pel" (Sorry Mom, I know I'm not spelling it right, so I went for the phonetic representation). The cookies were simple rolled out rectangles, slit in the center and then one end was pulled through the hole. They were fried in Mazola oil until bubbly and crisp and then sprinkled with powdered sugar.
The raviolis took a lot of preparation. Ma brought a traditional filling of brains and spinach (at 10, I thought this was gross) that she had made in her home, and I think we also did one with the usual ricotta cheese too. The stiff dough had to be rolled paper-thin. I remember being amazed at my ancient great-grandmother's arm strength! With her one pass of the wooden rolling pin, you could see your hand through the dough, while I struggled with the springy blog and failed to make any progress. There were special tools--a frame to make the little pillows and a zig-zag cutting wheel to separate them (my default job, after the dough debacle). The dough scraps were made into noodles, which we draped on clean cloth towels to dry over the backs of every chair in the house.
While we were busy with the ravioli/noodle asssembly line, a big pot of my mother's tomato sauce was simmering on the stove, filling the house with the smells of garlic, oregano, fennel and basil. I loved the smell, but I didn't eat the sauce. As a child, I ate my pasta "naked," as my mother's sauce was always too spicy-hot for my young taste buds. And as I recall, my dad didn't eat pasta at all, except for the special occasion of Christmas raviolis. Mom must have despaired over both of us!
I pull these memories out in December, spooling them through my mind, and trying to remember the tiniest details. Replaying the visual pictures of long-gone, much-loved family and happy times of cooking, laughing and of course, eating, makes this time of year very special to me.
But rainy weather is fine for things like wrapping Christmas presents and baking cookies. Bill misses the "Cookie Exchange." In NY, our group of friends would each bake batches of 3 or 4 different treats and then swap them, so everyone got a plate full of joy with a dozen or more candies and cookies to see Bill through the holidays. I won't get quite that ambitious, but I always enjoy trying a few new recipes each year, and I want to tuck some gingerbread into the packages for the kids, just so they can taste Mom's love from afar.
When I was 10, my great-grandmother "Ma" came to our house and made raviolis, noodles and an Italian cookie called "gesh-pel" (Sorry Mom, I know I'm not spelling it right, so I went for the phonetic representation). The cookies were simple rolled out rectangles, slit in the center and then one end was pulled through the hole. They were fried in Mazola oil until bubbly and crisp and then sprinkled with powdered sugar.
The raviolis took a lot of preparation. Ma brought a traditional filling of brains and spinach (at 10, I thought this was gross) that she had made in her home, and I think we also did one with the usual ricotta cheese too. The stiff dough had to be rolled paper-thin. I remember being amazed at my ancient great-grandmother's arm strength! With her one pass of the wooden rolling pin, you could see your hand through the dough, while I struggled with the springy blog and failed to make any progress. There were special tools--a frame to make the little pillows and a zig-zag cutting wheel to separate them (my default job, after the dough debacle). The dough scraps were made into noodles, which we draped on clean cloth towels to dry over the backs of every chair in the house.
While we were busy with the ravioli/noodle asssembly line, a big pot of my mother's tomato sauce was simmering on the stove, filling the house with the smells of garlic, oregano, fennel and basil. I loved the smell, but I didn't eat the sauce. As a child, I ate my pasta "naked," as my mother's sauce was always too spicy-hot for my young taste buds. And as I recall, my dad didn't eat pasta at all, except for the special occasion of Christmas raviolis. Mom must have despaired over both of us!
I pull these memories out in December, spooling them through my mind, and trying to remember the tiniest details. Replaying the visual pictures of long-gone, much-loved family and happy times of cooking, laughing and of course, eating, makes this time of year very special to me.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Animal Welfare Comes to Call
A few weeks ago, I signed us up to become "pre-approved" for eventually adopting another Malinois. Our initial references checked out, and now we are gearing up for a "home visit" from the ABMC inspector.
This impending visit begs the question, "what would cause someone to fail" a home visit? Twenty emaciated dogs in an unfenced yard right on the highway? Yep.
But it also brings to mind the needs we have in a future dog. We need a dog who does NOT chase cattle. That would be a death sentence, as we are surrounded by people who make a living raising beef, people who would not tolerate someone's pet running weight off their cows. We need a dog who can do stairs. Echo never went up and down stairs when we lived in NY (she would just leap over the porch steps), but when we moved here, she had to learn to negotiate the treehouse nature of our new place. At the end, she could no longer navigate the stairs, and we had to walk her slowly around the back and down the sloped driveway. She also could no longer come up to the loft to be with us while we worked.
I think this is a great process and am looking forward to meeting someone who agrees with us that this is a special breed, deserving of a good environment. I haven't seen "our next dog" yet on the site, but hopefully when we are ready, we will have all our approvals set up in advance.
This impending visit begs the question, "what would cause someone to fail" a home visit? Twenty emaciated dogs in an unfenced yard right on the highway? Yep.
But it also brings to mind the needs we have in a future dog. We need a dog who does NOT chase cattle. That would be a death sentence, as we are surrounded by people who make a living raising beef, people who would not tolerate someone's pet running weight off their cows. We need a dog who can do stairs. Echo never went up and down stairs when we lived in NY (she would just leap over the porch steps), but when we moved here, she had to learn to negotiate the treehouse nature of our new place. At the end, she could no longer navigate the stairs, and we had to walk her slowly around the back and down the sloped driveway. She also could no longer come up to the loft to be with us while we worked.
I think this is a great process and am looking forward to meeting someone who agrees with us that this is a special breed, deserving of a good environment. I haven't seen "our next dog" yet on the site, but hopefully when we are ready, we will have all our approvals set up in advance.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
I think I'm starting to understand...
Living in the land of "all deer, all the time," I've learned to tune out most of what Bill has been talking about for the past month or so. But this morning, I had a REVELATION.
It's all about being male. Deer hunting has all the essential boy elements: Sex, Competition, Toys, and Bragging Rights. The goal--shooting a deer--is secondary to the process. If I had the task of filling the freezer with venison, I would treat it as another chore to tackle and complete. I would choose the most efficient method of completing the task. I'd put a pile of corn in the backyard, a gun by the door, and while I was vacuuming or cooking dinner or folding laundry, I'd check out the window, and blast the darn thing when it showed up to feed.
Bill says this is NOT the way to hunt deer. Yesterday, he explained the foreign concept of "fair chase," meaning, you must figure out where the deer are going to be, track them, look for signs that the males are in the rut and looking for mates (that's the sex part), buy all sorts of stuff (guns, stands, clothing, doe urine, no-scent shampoo and soap, etc.) to stalk stealthily, get up in the dark and sit in the woods for hours on end, come home to the little woman cooking breakfast, spend the rest of the day sleeping, and then go out again before sunset to do it all again. It's a game.
Why this game is interesting is beyond me. Here I thought the object was to bag a deer and move on to the next thing. Apparently, drawing out the process, obsessing about it, worrying about where they are, talking about it (before, during and after), is what it's all about. The journey, not the destination. I would find this highly frustrating.
No wonder we women go to the store and buy meat in packages. The hunt is just too time consuming for goal-oriented multi-taskers.
It's all about being male. Deer hunting has all the essential boy elements: Sex, Competition, Toys, and Bragging Rights. The goal--shooting a deer--is secondary to the process. If I had the task of filling the freezer with venison, I would treat it as another chore to tackle and complete. I would choose the most efficient method of completing the task. I'd put a pile of corn in the backyard, a gun by the door, and while I was vacuuming or cooking dinner or folding laundry, I'd check out the window, and blast the darn thing when it showed up to feed.
Bill says this is NOT the way to hunt deer. Yesterday, he explained the foreign concept of "fair chase," meaning, you must figure out where the deer are going to be, track them, look for signs that the males are in the rut and looking for mates (that's the sex part), buy all sorts of stuff (guns, stands, clothing, doe urine, no-scent shampoo and soap, etc.) to stalk stealthily, get up in the dark and sit in the woods for hours on end, come home to the little woman cooking breakfast, spend the rest of the day sleeping, and then go out again before sunset to do it all again. It's a game.
Why this game is interesting is beyond me. Here I thought the object was to bag a deer and move on to the next thing. Apparently, drawing out the process, obsessing about it, worrying about where they are, talking about it (before, during and after), is what it's all about. The journey, not the destination. I would find this highly frustrating.
No wonder we women go to the store and buy meat in packages. The hunt is just too time consuming for goal-oriented multi-taskers.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Winter?
"You have a jacket on!" Caroline sounded shocked, when I came back from dinner break yesterday afternoon. While everyone else wears sweaters, scarves and ear muffs at the library, I am still in short sleeves and light pants or skirts.
But yesterday at 3 pm, it was in the 30s outside and looking like snow--and I broke down and put on the light spring jacket I keep in the car for such emergencies. Yes, even I was a tad chilled on my trip to the post office. It didn't last though.
While we spent the evening at the library doing our normal library things, we also decorated several trees, strung lights and dressed our environment for the holidays. Caroline brought out several hats (she was wearing the Dr. Seuss Cindy Lou-Who number) and asked, "do you want the reindeer horns, or the Santa?" I chose the Santa, and even managed to carry off the festive look for about 15 minutes, when suddenly my ears turned bright red and sweat started pouring off my face. I had to ditch the hat, or risk self-immolation, right then and there.
Snow is indeed predicted for tomorrow. It seems a little early to me, but it is December--in New York, I'd be looking at below-zero weather this month. At least if I start burning up here, I can go outside in my T-shirt and chill out without turning into an ice cube.
But yesterday at 3 pm, it was in the 30s outside and looking like snow--and I broke down and put on the light spring jacket I keep in the car for such emergencies. Yes, even I was a tad chilled on my trip to the post office. It didn't last though.
While we spent the evening at the library doing our normal library things, we also decorated several trees, strung lights and dressed our environment for the holidays. Caroline brought out several hats (she was wearing the Dr. Seuss Cindy Lou-Who number) and asked, "do you want the reindeer horns, or the Santa?" I chose the Santa, and even managed to carry off the festive look for about 15 minutes, when suddenly my ears turned bright red and sweat started pouring off my face. I had to ditch the hat, or risk self-immolation, right then and there.
Snow is indeed predicted for tomorrow. It seems a little early to me, but it is December--in New York, I'd be looking at below-zero weather this month. At least if I start burning up here, I can go outside in my T-shirt and chill out without turning into an ice cube.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Poor Neglected Blog...
Where have I been for a week? Here, just slogging through life.
Thanksgiving was just the two of us, so there was no giant 28 pound turkey, children running through the house, oldsters sleeping in chairs or other holiday traditions. I roasted a chicken for Bill and myself, burnt the stuffing when he came home late from deer hunting, steamed some broccoli, and forgot to put cream in the onions. A total lackadaisical Thanksgiving. We had a nice meal and watched football together.
The rest of the week has been a blur. I'm listing auctions, going to work at the library, doing the first of the month chores like changing furnace filters, checking salt in the water softener, dosing the septic system with bio-spores. I cook, whenever Bill shows up home from the woods, cold and hungry. I knit, I read, I sleep. Just ho-hum life.
I'm gearing up to wrap Christmas presents and send them out to my far-flung family. I expect Christmas will be as quiet as Thanksgiving was.
Thanksgiving was just the two of us, so there was no giant 28 pound turkey, children running through the house, oldsters sleeping in chairs or other holiday traditions. I roasted a chicken for Bill and myself, burnt the stuffing when he came home late from deer hunting, steamed some broccoli, and forgot to put cream in the onions. A total lackadaisical Thanksgiving. We had a nice meal and watched football together.
The rest of the week has been a blur. I'm listing auctions, going to work at the library, doing the first of the month chores like changing furnace filters, checking salt in the water softener, dosing the septic system with bio-spores. I cook, whenever Bill shows up home from the woods, cold and hungry. I knit, I read, I sleep. Just ho-hum life.
I'm gearing up to wrap Christmas presents and send them out to my far-flung family. I expect Christmas will be as quiet as Thanksgiving was.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Too Easy
I should just get over myself.
Psyching myself up for weeks, file folders under my arm, crib-sheets of facts at my fingertips, ready to talk enzymatic pathways and hormone methylization, I sallied forth to do battle with Dr. DaSilva.
"So do you want to change to the aromatase inhibitor?" he asked, halfway through the checkup.
"No way!" I got ready to argue my case.
"Okay," he said cheerfully, writing in my chart. "We'll keep you on the tamoxifen for five years, no problem."
It's all good news. No lumps or bumps, no sign of recurrence, healthy Pam. I have graduated to check-ups every four months instead of every three, I got the meds I wanted, and there were no arguments. Chest scan, blood tests, bone scan and annual gyn in March. I'm a free woman until then.
Today is Thanksgiving, and I have so much to be thankful for!
Psyching myself up for weeks, file folders under my arm, crib-sheets of facts at my fingertips, ready to talk enzymatic pathways and hormone methylization, I sallied forth to do battle with Dr. DaSilva.
"So do you want to change to the aromatase inhibitor?" he asked, halfway through the checkup.
"No way!" I got ready to argue my case.
"Okay," he said cheerfully, writing in my chart. "We'll keep you on the tamoxifen for five years, no problem."
It's all good news. No lumps or bumps, no sign of recurrence, healthy Pam. I have graduated to check-ups every four months instead of every three, I got the meds I wanted, and there were no arguments. Chest scan, blood tests, bone scan and annual gyn in March. I'm a free woman until then.
Today is Thanksgiving, and I have so much to be thankful for!
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Big Day in Medico-Land
Today's my big 2-year oncology check-up, followed by a session at Mr. Acupuncture's House of Blessed Relief.
I've got a list of meds I need new scripts for, a file folder full of genomic test results, and a stoic attitude. My goal is to stay on the tamoxifen (for better or worse) and hope that the five years on that drug will suit me better than switching to an aromatase inhibitor. I hope that my doctor will agree.
There is a trade-off when one decides to get involved in the decision-making of one's own health care. It means I have to take responsibility for the choices I make, knowing that I am not nearly as knowledgeable as my doctor, but also knowing that no one cares more about me and my care as I do. Ultimately, I have to live with the results of my decisions. Would I rather hand that over to the doctor, or make my own choice and accept the consequences, good or bad.
So much second-guessing goes on. If the cancer comes back, would it have happened if I had chosen the other medication? If it doesn't come back, is it because I chose to take one drug over another? Who's to say that taking this blasted estrogen blocker has had any real long-term effect on my individual survival (since all the studies are based on large-population statistical studies, like the one that says it's not cost-effective to give all women aged 40-50 routine mammograms, because it only saves a few lives)?
It boggles. In the end, I shrug my shoulders and move on. What else can I do?
I've got a list of meds I need new scripts for, a file folder full of genomic test results, and a stoic attitude. My goal is to stay on the tamoxifen (for better or worse) and hope that the five years on that drug will suit me better than switching to an aromatase inhibitor. I hope that my doctor will agree.
There is a trade-off when one decides to get involved in the decision-making of one's own health care. It means I have to take responsibility for the choices I make, knowing that I am not nearly as knowledgeable as my doctor, but also knowing that no one cares more about me and my care as I do. Ultimately, I have to live with the results of my decisions. Would I rather hand that over to the doctor, or make my own choice and accept the consequences, good or bad.
So much second-guessing goes on. If the cancer comes back, would it have happened if I had chosen the other medication? If it doesn't come back, is it because I chose to take one drug over another? Who's to say that taking this blasted estrogen blocker has had any real long-term effect on my individual survival (since all the studies are based on large-population statistical studies, like the one that says it's not cost-effective to give all women aged 40-50 routine mammograms, because it only saves a few lives)?
It boggles. In the end, I shrug my shoulders and move on. What else can I do?
Friday, November 20, 2009
Too Soon
We met Chica on Wednesday--a sweet dog, very affectionate and most desperate for attention. But it made both of us realize just how much we miss Echo. We're still too sad and not ready to give our hearts away again. It wouldn't be fair to the new dog to always be comparing to the old dog.
Bill made it safely to Illinois, and is presumably sitting in Cousin Steve's "tree stand" at this moment, for opening day of deer season. Steve's stand is actually a kind of a boys' clubhouse on stilts in the woods--I always expect there to be a "No Girlz Allowed!" sign over the door when I see it. There's plenty of room for a full pack of manly men and their guns. I imagine the haze of testosterone is miasma-like this morning.
His plan is to hunt through the weekend with his cousins-in-laws, then go to St. Louis with his dad on Monday for the big oncology consult. He will come home on Tuesday, just in time for my oncology appointment on Wednesday. His dad may come to spend Thanksgiving with us, or he may decide to stay at home. All plans are tentative. We are in the land of "playing it by ear."
I continue to do the homebody thing, with forays into library-land two days a week. I made a really boneheaded mistake yesterday--sending an Inter-Library Loan book back to the wrong recipient. But I think I made up for it by getting the check-in and check-out computers back on line after an electrical brown-out scrambled their brains. One plus and one minus. It's the story of my life.
Bill made it safely to Illinois, and is presumably sitting in Cousin Steve's "tree stand" at this moment, for opening day of deer season. Steve's stand is actually a kind of a boys' clubhouse on stilts in the woods--I always expect there to be a "No Girlz Allowed!" sign over the door when I see it. There's plenty of room for a full pack of manly men and their guns. I imagine the haze of testosterone is miasma-like this morning.
His plan is to hunt through the weekend with his cousins-in-laws, then go to St. Louis with his dad on Monday for the big oncology consult. He will come home on Tuesday, just in time for my oncology appointment on Wednesday. His dad may come to spend Thanksgiving with us, or he may decide to stay at home. All plans are tentative. We are in the land of "playing it by ear."
I continue to do the homebody thing, with forays into library-land two days a week. I made a really boneheaded mistake yesterday--sending an Inter-Library Loan book back to the wrong recipient. But I think I made up for it by getting the check-in and check-out computers back on line after an electrical brown-out scrambled their brains. One plus and one minus. It's the story of my life.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Technologically Challenged
I try to keep up, really I do. But information overload, new-fangled communication pathways and "progress" continue to confound my learning curve. No sooner do I master the latest, the latest changes to something I don't have the time or the inclination to learn.
Back in the 90s, it took me about a year to figure out how to type computer commands in DOS. Then I had to learn to use Windows 3.3 when my fave shell Geoworks fell behind in market share. Then there was the Internet, online banking, search engines, email, routers, wireless (which I still haven't deciphered), hard-drive sectors, Windows Me, XP, Vista, and now 7, Facebook, MySpace, blogging, etc. I'm tired. I'm tired of learning new technology, only to have it replaced every year by the next new thing.
My son no longer Blogs, he Tweets on Twitter and shares RSS feeds from Google Reader. (Huh?) I have resisted Twitter, mostly because I suspect my inate verbosity would be inhibited by the 144 character limit. Is it another example of people not having enough time to properly compose an epic, settling for a brief snippet instead? Form over substance? Maybe not. It may be as simple as choosing a more succinct and superficial type of communication ("I'm sitting on the porch") over the complexity of delving into the more complicated issues of the day. I know I'm overwrought enough lately by politics, economics, news of human venality, and natural disasters enough to say "I'll think about all that...tomorrow!" Maybe it is better to just sit on the porch and Tweet that fact to the universe.
Back in the 90s, it took me about a year to figure out how to type computer commands in DOS. Then I had to learn to use Windows 3.3 when my fave shell Geoworks fell behind in market share. Then there was the Internet, online banking, search engines, email, routers, wireless (which I still haven't deciphered), hard-drive sectors, Windows Me, XP, Vista, and now 7, Facebook, MySpace, blogging, etc. I'm tired. I'm tired of learning new technology, only to have it replaced every year by the next new thing.
My son no longer Blogs, he Tweets on Twitter and shares RSS feeds from Google Reader. (Huh?) I have resisted Twitter, mostly because I suspect my inate verbosity would be inhibited by the 144 character limit. Is it another example of people not having enough time to properly compose an epic, settling for a brief snippet instead? Form over substance? Maybe not. It may be as simple as choosing a more succinct and superficial type of communication ("I'm sitting on the porch") over the complexity of delving into the more complicated issues of the day. I know I'm overwrought enough lately by politics, economics, news of human venality, and natural disasters enough to say "I'll think about all that...tomorrow!" Maybe it is better to just sit on the porch and Tweet that fact to the universe.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Ruminants as a Constant Topic
Bill's home, and the talk is deer, deer, deer--blah, blah, blah. It doesn't matter what the discussion is about, it always reverts to deer. If it weren't for the fact that the freezer is venison-challenged, I'd be less patient than I am. Note however, that so far, there are no actual deer being harmed in this exercise.
He gets up before the sun and goes to sit in the woods. He keeps seeing deer, but they are either too small, or in a place where a shot would be inconvenient, or they see him before he sees them.
I am trying mightily to act interested, but after three or four days of yakkety-yak about the habits and locations and behaviors of said pear-eating bandits, I get bored. Just bring me the meat--then, and only then, will I listen to the Great Hunter story with enthusiasm.
He gets up before the sun and goes to sit in the woods. He keeps seeing deer, but they are either too small, or in a place where a shot would be inconvenient, or they see him before he sees them.
I am trying mightily to act interested, but after three or four days of yakkety-yak about the habits and locations and behaviors of said pear-eating bandits, I get bored. Just bring me the meat--then, and only then, will I listen to the Great Hunter story with enthusiasm.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Life Goes On
I spent yesterday morning at the Computer Hospital, getting upgraded to Windows 7 and knitting quietly while Steve did his magic rebuilding of my files. The talk turned to dogs (as it often does these days), and Steve was lamenting that he couldn't find a home for his big dog, Chica. "No one wants a big dog," he said. What popped into my head was "I want a big dog!"
Chica is (according to Steve), a sweet Siberian Husky/Yellow Lab mix, about 5-6 years old. She lives a sad and miserable life on a chain in Bean Station. Steve and his wife can no longer afford to take care of her, either in money or time. She was getting into trouble in the neighborhood while they were at work, (hence the chain), and what she really needs is a place to run and dig, and a family to pay attention to her.
It occurred to me that this is a dog who needs a home--and I have a home that needs a dog.
I am completely surprised that I would even consider this so soon. It feels a bit like a widow who got engaged at the funeral. I haven't met Chica yet, but I am intrigued.
When Bill comes home today, I think I will talk to him about this. I know, I know--I said I wasn't ready, but spending a week alone here, I was lonely, for the first time in thirty years.
Besides, Steve said if I took the dog, he'd upgrade Bill's computer for free...
Chica is (according to Steve), a sweet Siberian Husky/Yellow Lab mix, about 5-6 years old. She lives a sad and miserable life on a chain in Bean Station. Steve and his wife can no longer afford to take care of her, either in money or time. She was getting into trouble in the neighborhood while they were at work, (hence the chain), and what she really needs is a place to run and dig, and a family to pay attention to her.
It occurred to me that this is a dog who needs a home--and I have a home that needs a dog.
I am completely surprised that I would even consider this so soon. It feels a bit like a widow who got engaged at the funeral. I haven't met Chica yet, but I am intrigued.
When Bill comes home today, I think I will talk to him about this. I know, I know--I said I wasn't ready, but spending a week alone here, I was lonely, for the first time in thirty years.
Besides, Steve said if I took the dog, he'd upgrade Bill's computer for free...
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
So Quiet!
Bill is in Philadelphia this week, working as a First Engineer on the USNS Pollux again. At first I thought I would go up with him, then I remembered I have a job now and can't take off at the drop of a hat. Rats. I must be content to putter about my too-quiet house, cleaning up the Bill-just-left-detritus, and cooking things Bill doesn't like for myself. My salmon last night was delicious.
I surprised myself this morning by Googling "Malinois Rescue." I too am now convinced that Echo was a true Belgian Malinois, not just a "faux." When I read the descriptions of the breed's behaviors, I think "that's my dog!" Agility, car travel, prey chasing & digging, verbalization--it's all there. Am I ready for another high-maintenance dog? Not yet, I think. I still see Echo out of the corner of my eye, everywhere I go. I am planning on going to meet Bill in Singapore in January or February. And I know I'm not ready to take on another full-time project like a new member of the family this soon. I am giving myself time to heal and time to think about who the new dog might be in the future.
The news from Illinois continues to be bad. Bill's dad was told yesterday that the cancer is back (if it ever really went away, I have my doubts--more likely it was a bad read on the last CT scan), and the doctors are recommending that he go back into chemotherapy again. Dad will have to decide whether a few more months are worth the side effects that were so debilitating to him this summer. No one is talking about a cure--this is just a postponement. Bill will be going up there the week before Thanksgiving, and go to the next appointment with his Dad to talk to the medicos himself.
So we are "on hold" for the moment. Waiting for the next set of circumstances to determine our plans.
I surprised myself this morning by Googling "Malinois Rescue." I too am now convinced that Echo was a true Belgian Malinois, not just a "faux." When I read the descriptions of the breed's behaviors, I think "that's my dog!" Agility, car travel, prey chasing & digging, verbalization--it's all there. Am I ready for another high-maintenance dog? Not yet, I think. I still see Echo out of the corner of my eye, everywhere I go. I am planning on going to meet Bill in Singapore in January or February. And I know I'm not ready to take on another full-time project like a new member of the family this soon. I am giving myself time to heal and time to think about who the new dog might be in the future.
The news from Illinois continues to be bad. Bill's dad was told yesterday that the cancer is back (if it ever really went away, I have my doubts--more likely it was a bad read on the last CT scan), and the doctors are recommending that he go back into chemotherapy again. Dad will have to decide whether a few more months are worth the side effects that were so debilitating to him this summer. No one is talking about a cure--this is just a postponement. Bill will be going up there the week before Thanksgiving, and go to the next appointment with his Dad to talk to the medicos himself.
So we are "on hold" for the moment. Waiting for the next set of circumstances to determine our plans.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Echo Memories
Echo 10/23/09 Bill and I have been spending a lot of time talking about and remembering our Echo, dredging up our memories of her over the past ten years. We are strangely comforted by this retrospective, and we spend a good deal of the time laughing over her antics.
Good dogs are "made," and it took a long time for Echo to become part of our family. I thought at the beginning that she had potential greatness, but when we first brought her home, she was a scrawny, nervous wild thing. The shelter told us she had been "living on the street" for almost 5 months before Animal Control could capture her. Then she had been incarcerated in the pound for another 4 months. She was not socialized to humans. She had a mind of her own, and it was geared toward escape and food she could catch and eat for herself. She was incredibly fast. Shortly after she first came to live with us, she went out into the woods behind the house and came back with a full-grown rabbit in her jaws. On our daily walks, she snatched up bees and grasshoppers and chomped them down.
Echo was named by the shelter, presumably for her big ears. We never knew if she had been another family's pet, or what she had been like as a puppy. Slowly, she began gaining weight and filling out, developing a "coyote tail" and a thick, healthy coat. I enrolled her in an agility class, hoping to focus some of her physical talents and speed into a controlled activity, help her bond with me, and burn off some of her boundless energy. But she was still a delinquent in spite of her smarts and abilities--she was not patient. She hated waiting her turn to do the course, and would bark at the other dogs when they made mistakes. At the end of our intermediate course, we were asked not to return until Echo learned some basic obedience skills.
Surprisingly, she got along with our cat. The cat either detested her or tolerated her, I could never make up my mind which. At first, the cat's head was always wet with Echo slobber, but they eventually negotiated a truce of sorts. Echo would chase any strange cat who ran, but "her" cat stood her ground and suffered as Echo charged and sniffed her. At one point the cat brought a flying squirrel into the house--but it wasn't quite dead yet. The squirrel took off, zooming from living room to dining room, trying to get away. Cat and Echo raced from one end of the house to the other, and Echo won. I asked Echo to give it to me, and to my astonishment, she dropped it into my cupped hands. I knew then that we were finally having some success on the path to civilizing the dog.
But for those first six years in New York, civilization was at best, a fleeting concept. She liked us well enough, but she never really got the idea that she belonged to us--she was still her own dog. Whenever the kitchen door was opened and the human was inattentive, she'd bolt for the horizon. We spent a lot of time driving the streets, trying to coax her to jump in the car to come home. There was never a chance of catching her on foot, you see.
When we changed the environment, she changed. Who knew that by putting her in the car and moving 800 miles, we were creating the dog we had always wanted? Part of the change was that she was maturing and calming down, but the real change was that she had room to roam free without a leash, plenty of scents to track down, and a job to do--patrolling her property and protecting me. The roadtrips to the west coast also helped--she became dependent on the humans in the car when we traveled to unfamiliar territory.
She still liked hunting her own food, to the exclusion of all other activities. I saw her often digging furiously for an hour or more, trying to get at a chipmunk or vole. She would even take logs in her jaws and move them to get at what she was digging for. She loved charging a flock of turkeys, and making them take wing. She still ate any buzzing, stinging insect, inside the house or out in the yard.
She was a "talker." Snuggling on the couch, she would tuck her big head into my armpit, expose her belly and groan and gargle when I asked her to talk to me. Eventually, she'd regain her dignity, shake her ears, sneeze and leave, as if she were disgusted with herself for showing such baby-like weakness.
I remember when long-haired Alex worked at the deli, she would bound up on the couch with him when he came home from work, sniffing and rooting around in his hair. This evolved into "snoofering" when we moved to Tennessee. When I came out of the shower with wet, clean hair, Echo would look up expectantly, and follow me until I sat and let her rub her nose in my hair. She would sneeze (in my ear, usually), and rub her neck in my scent. (She also liked Bill's Old Spice deodorant, and would do the same with him, trying to rub that scent onto her fur, tickling his armpits and making him laugh). And it wasn't just pleasant smells she liked to acquire--many times she'd come home from our walks with her neck covered in cow flop or deer poop, and then it was instant bath-time, despite whatever we had planned for the day!
She was always remarkably intelligent, but she became confident and calm over the past four years and incredibly, increasingly lovable to us. She finally learned to trust us, and she lost most of her younger fears. Even when she was so sick there at the end, she would still get up and follow us, wagging her tail and trying to please us.
I miss her like crazy.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Family Stuff
Bill has decided to postpone his trip to Illinois until after his work-week in Philadelphia. The plan now is for him to go up for hunting season on Cousins Steve & Alice's farm, the week before Thanksgiving. If his dad is amenable, Bill will then bring him down here for a visit at the end of the month. We will then drive him back, or put him on a plane to get him back home.
Dad is reluctant to leave Illinois however, because Bill's mom is not doing well. I spoke with the head nurse at the nursing home yesterday. The diagnosis is "failure to thrive;" she is basically just fading away physically now. She continues a slow and steady decline, losing weight each week, despite attempts to intervene nutritionally. The family has decided that feeding tubes are not a good option, given her near-catatonic mental state. Instead, hospice services have been instigated to keep her comfortable. Knowing my mother-in-law for many years when she was a vibrant, active and pragmatic woman, I know in my heart that she would agree to this course of treatment. But it is still a major strain on everyone--essentially "giving up" on a much-loved person, despite the fact that she has not been mentally "present" for three years now. We are commending her to her God's gentle graces. It's hard.
I am trying to be at peace, trying to live without stress. Sometimes, I feel dangerously detached while I am working on maintaining a state of calm, worry-free existence. It is essential to my own health that I don't become "inflamed," emotionally or physically. I do miss feeling feelings with my past great intensity. This side-effect of surviving cancer worries me--it's as if after all that drama, what's worth getting agitated about?
Bad ju-ju is ahead, it's unavoidable. I just have to trust that my body and mind are protecting me with this weird emotionless numbness.
Dad is reluctant to leave Illinois however, because Bill's mom is not doing well. I spoke with the head nurse at the nursing home yesterday. The diagnosis is "failure to thrive;" she is basically just fading away physically now. She continues a slow and steady decline, losing weight each week, despite attempts to intervene nutritionally. The family has decided that feeding tubes are not a good option, given her near-catatonic mental state. Instead, hospice services have been instigated to keep her comfortable. Knowing my mother-in-law for many years when she was a vibrant, active and pragmatic woman, I know in my heart that she would agree to this course of treatment. But it is still a major strain on everyone--essentially "giving up" on a much-loved person, despite the fact that she has not been mentally "present" for three years now. We are commending her to her God's gentle graces. It's hard.
I am trying to be at peace, trying to live without stress. Sometimes, I feel dangerously detached while I am working on maintaining a state of calm, worry-free existence. It is essential to my own health that I don't become "inflamed," emotionally or physically. I do miss feeling feelings with my past great intensity. This side-effect of surviving cancer worries me--it's as if after all that drama, what's worth getting agitated about?
Bad ju-ju is ahead, it's unavoidable. I just have to trust that my body and mind are protecting me with this weird emotionless numbness.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Autumn Doings
It's 8:30 and Bill is sitting at the computer. His clothing and work stuff is strewn all over the living room (not packed in a seabag), and he's drinking coffee and cruising the Internet. Am I wrong in thinking he's not going to Illinois today?
This morning we watched four does (two big mamas and two yearlings) in the backyard, eating the honeysuckle and browsing through the lawn. Bill discovered he could open one of the small hooked windows and effectively have a "gun-port" to shoot through when muzzleloading season starts this Saturday. Perhaps this is what quelled his desire to get on the road this morning? I find it hardly sporting to shoot "yard deer," but we're down to two packages of venison in the freezer--who am I to quibble over which deer he shoots and where?
The mornings are cold and clear, and the days sunny and warm. This is the best! I love this time of year. We are past peak color on the leaves, and about half of the leaves have fallen on the ground. I have emptied all the garden pots (putting the dirt on the outside beds to augment the horrendous clay soil), and brought in the rubber plant, the rosemary, and a couple of pots of parsley for the winter. There were also two pepper plants that were still pumping out peppers--I will experiment and see if they can finish producing fruit indoors.
Work at the library continues to engage me. Yesterday, the main server died an ignoble death, preventing us from doing most of our library work via computer. All check-in and check-out had to be done manually, the computerized card catalogue was down (forcing me to remember my Dewey Decimal System when someone came in looking for books on dreams, or anatomy, or local history), and I couldn't process my interlibrary loans. New library cards were issued, but we were unable to enter them in the system, so we couldn't hand the actual card to the new patrons.
I found I wasn't nearly as frustrated by the problems as the old timers, who were fit to be tied. My laissez-faire attitude of "oh well, we'll do it the old-fashioned way" carried me through the evening without aggravation. It will eventually be fixed. No worries. Whatever.
And my dental appointment went as expected. All of my teeth are falling apart. I can only afford to crown two teeth per year, so we're just repairing the next one on the list before the end of the year. Then in January, we'll do two more. And so on.
Life goes on.
This morning we watched four does (two big mamas and two yearlings) in the backyard, eating the honeysuckle and browsing through the lawn. Bill discovered he could open one of the small hooked windows and effectively have a "gun-port" to shoot through when muzzleloading season starts this Saturday. Perhaps this is what quelled his desire to get on the road this morning? I find it hardly sporting to shoot "yard deer," but we're down to two packages of venison in the freezer--who am I to quibble over which deer he shoots and where?
The mornings are cold and clear, and the days sunny and warm. This is the best! I love this time of year. We are past peak color on the leaves, and about half of the leaves have fallen on the ground. I have emptied all the garden pots (putting the dirt on the outside beds to augment the horrendous clay soil), and brought in the rubber plant, the rosemary, and a couple of pots of parsley for the winter. There were also two pepper plants that were still pumping out peppers--I will experiment and see if they can finish producing fruit indoors.
Work at the library continues to engage me. Yesterday, the main server died an ignoble death, preventing us from doing most of our library work via computer. All check-in and check-out had to be done manually, the computerized card catalogue was down (forcing me to remember my Dewey Decimal System when someone came in looking for books on dreams, or anatomy, or local history), and I couldn't process my interlibrary loans. New library cards were issued, but we were unable to enter them in the system, so we couldn't hand the actual card to the new patrons.
I found I wasn't nearly as frustrated by the problems as the old timers, who were fit to be tied. My laissez-faire attitude of "oh well, we'll do it the old-fashioned way" carried me through the evening without aggravation. It will eventually be fixed. No worries. Whatever.
And my dental appointment went as expected. All of my teeth are falling apart. I can only afford to crown two teeth per year, so we're just repairing the next one on the list before the end of the year. Then in January, we'll do two more. And so on.
Life goes on.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Back to Busy, But...
All of a sudden, life is getting busy again. Bill is leaving tomorrow for Illinois to see his dad through another round of medical tests, then he is due in Philadelphia on Monday for another week of work on the USNS Pollux.
I would consider accompanying him on his travels, but then there's the little matter of my having a job now. I knew this was going to be trouble! This morning I have a dental appointment, then I'll go straight to work at noon, and not be home until tonight.
And there's always plenty to do around here--the garden needs to be put to bed for the winter, the leaves are a constant clean-up chore, and the basement is a mess again. The dishes and laundry are constant, and something always needs to be fixed.
There is no dog hair to vacuum up.
Last week, Mr. Professional Carpet-Man came and cleaned all the rugs and furniture. I still find Echo in my knitting and on fabric items in the house, but there are no more dog-hair tumbleweeds rolling across the carpet.
I am still sad.
I would consider accompanying him on his travels, but then there's the little matter of my having a job now. I knew this was going to be trouble! This morning I have a dental appointment, then I'll go straight to work at noon, and not be home until tonight.
And there's always plenty to do around here--the garden needs to be put to bed for the winter, the leaves are a constant clean-up chore, and the basement is a mess again. The dishes and laundry are constant, and something always needs to be fixed.
There is no dog hair to vacuum up.
Last week, Mr. Professional Carpet-Man came and cleaned all the rugs and furniture. I still find Echo in my knitting and on fabric items in the house, but there are no more dog-hair tumbleweeds rolling across the carpet.
I am still sad.
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